


Start of Something Good

by Tatau



Category: due South
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Call of the Wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tatau/pseuds/Tatau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bullet in Fraser’s spine shifts and the surgery they had not wanted to risk when he got hit becomes a necessity if he doesn’t want to end in a wheelchair. There are no guarantees for a full-recovery and sometimes it’s not only the physical wound that has to heal. At least he has Ray trying to hold on to what they have, but it’s not always easy when the person you’re trying to save doesn’t see that it might be worth it</p>
<p>Surya made an amazing <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ds_c6d_big_bang_2012/works/522865">cover</a> for it</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The stellar beta job was done by Ride_Forever and I’m claiming any remaining mistakes. Special thanks to Bghost who breathed life into this story and without whom it probably would’ve died somewhere along the way.  
> Last but not least the most important person in this project: thanks to Happy29 who came up with the plotbunny in the first place and filled a lot of the blanks with her own imagination
> 
> Addition: There is a [FANMIX](https://www.dropbox.com/s/gqew6anuz1qkwg8/Fanmix%20Start%20of%20Something%20Good.zip?m) that goes along with this story. The gorgeous cover for it was designed and executed by the inimitable Surya74. Thank you again for lending me your creative talent.
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> **Dedicated to Neil whose love, stubbornness, and pain suffuse this story and make it something more**  
> 

Even after two years of hearing the sound, a smile still bloomed on Fraser’s face each time he caught the noise of Ray’s key in the lock.

“I’m back,” Ray called, unnecessarily.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Fraser replied. The soup in front of him simmered amicably. The recipe was probably as old as his grandmother. For Ray, comfort food consisted of pizza and beer. For Fraser, soup was a reminder of home and of being taken care of as a child. Today had been a rather trying day and Fraser could do with a little hominess.

Warm hands reached around to hold Fraser and a slender body pressed up behind him. “Smells good,” Ray’s voice was warm. “I did the shopping,” Ray whispered smugly into his ear.

Surprised, Fraser turned around in Ray’s embrace. “You did?”

Ray rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised. I get the groceries… now and again.”

Yes and Ray’s definition of ‘groceries’ couldn’t be found in any dictionary. It was appalling what Ray considered edible.

Expecting to find bags of candy and frozen goods, Fraser looked next to him at Ray’s shopping bags.

Was that an— “Ray, did you _intend_ to buy an artichoke?”

Ray shuffled a little.  “Uh… yeah… I was in the mood for—” Ray’s eyes lingered on the offending article for a moment, trying to find the right word for it, “vegetables.”

“I see.” Something was going on here. “Any particular reason you bought something you’ve claimed might kill you?”

“It’s—see, I’m an adventurous guy, okay? I do the wild thing once in a while. You said it tastes good and I said I’d try anything once,” Ray’s fingers did most of the talking.

…and sometimes, Ray went out of his way to incorporate Fraser’s sort of comfort food into his menu. Fraser’s smile deepened and the laugh lines around his eyes got more prominent. “We can put it together with potatoes and cheese in the oven. I assure you it will taste delicious.”

Dief grumbled next to him and Fraser cheerfully ignored his complaint. Diefenbaker was eating far too much fast food as it was.

Dinner was a challenge in self-control, Fraser reflected. Because Ray kept giving him these smiles and he didn’t stop teasing and Fraser’s hearing was very astute and Ray’s timbre was almost half an octave deeper than usual.

“How’s the,  uh, you know, the green stuff?”

“Very tasty. You should do the shopping more often.”

Ray’s tongue came out to wet his lips. “Yeah? Are there any benefits to the job?”

Ah. After all this time with Ray he should’ve seen where this was going the moment Ray brought an actual vegetable home.

Fraser allowed himself a slow smile. “I’m sure we can work out some kind of arrangement. Is there any specific form of recompense you had in mind?” Fraser asked, tongue firmly in cheek.

It was so, so easy to play into Ray’s hands. Fraser could already make out the speed-up in Ray’s breathing.

“You’re the smart one, Ben. I’m sure you can figure something out.”

Fraser bit his lip and pushed away from the table. He reached for Ray’s hand to pull him out of his seat. When Ray was pressed flush against him, he leaned forward to murmur into his ear. “I’m afraid I only have Canadian currency on me at the moment.”

“Sorry,” Ray swallowed hard. “I don’t accept any funny money.”

“Well, in that case I think I will have to pay you in kind.”

The kiss was languid and Ray all but melted against him. Ray’s body was all sinewy muscles and barely contained wiry strength; holding him was like trying to keep water in one place. Ray’s mouth opened effortlessly underneath his own and Ray’s hands gripped his sweater tightly, pulling Fraser even closer.

With sure steps, Fraser began walking them backwards in the direction of their bedroom. This was a comfort they both needed.

Fraser had never thought of sex as a matter of stress-relief, but it had taken him less than a month with Ray to figure out that for Ray those two were synonymous– not that Fraser was complaining. Fighting Ray for dominance was the most invigorating thing since he had broken into Pete McCormak’s ice fishing hole at the age of 8.

…and in moods like this, Ray only needed the fight to surrender. Fraser shuddered with a sudden longing to have Ray naked, spread out on the bed.  Yes, Ray was a genius when it came to matters of stress-relief, among other things.

And when it also got Ray to eat healthy now and again then they might even grow old enough to make the most of it.

“…Ben…” Ray gasped; fingers hot and firm on Fraser’s shoulder.

Ray’s hands moved lower, following Fraser’s spine downward. Fraser stiffened without meaning to when Ray’s fingers came close to the old scar from his bullet wound. He tried to distract Ray with a deep kiss, but Ray had already noticed. His fingers moved into safer territory again and Fraser relaxed slowly.

Making love to Ray… sometimes Fraser still couldn’t believe it. Lips, and teeth, and fingertips, Fraser devoted himself to his task. Ray’s body was an unspoken answer to the question Fraser’s body was asking.

Partners in every sense of the word. Ray’s fingers dug harder into Fraser’s arms. The bracelet was clinking quietly and Fraser bent his head to the side to take it between his lips. Sweat. Metal. Fraser’s tongue flicked between the beads.

“Ahh… God… Ben…”

Ray’s body moved like a dancer’s; as if Ray never had to think about how to move with Fraser. And he probably didn’t. And with Ray guiding them, Fraser didn’t have to think about it either.

The sweat on Ray’s chest was slowly cooling as Fraser pushed his face close to Ray’s, nuzzling along his jaw line. Languidly, Ray stretched. Like this, Ray always reminded him of molten metal. Usually so headstrong and wired, but when he was like this he was calm, full of slow smiles, and husky murmurs.

“I love you,” Fraser confessed into Ray’s skin.

Ray’s graceful fingers pulled his face closer to meet him for a kiss. Slowly, Ray’s tongue invaded his mouth, sated and leisurely. Fraser felt drunk when Ray pulled away. “Love you, Ben,” Ray said with a smile in his voice.

Fraser laced their fingers together and closed his eyes. He could feel Ray’s chest rise and fall against his own and he couldn’t even begin to say which leg belonged to whom. Ray’s arm was slung over his shoulder, just holding him, and Fraser soaked in the feeling of being as close to Ray as was humanly possible. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t even tell where his own fingers ended and Ray’s began… it felt as if they simply merged into one; it was the most liberating feeling Fraser knew.

Fraser’s breath escaped on a low moan as Ray’s tongue sneaked out to draw a pattern on his collar bone. Apparently, Ray had rested enough. Sharp teeth worried the soft skin where throat met shoulder and Fraser shivered. Sleep, he thought, was overrated. With an underhanded move, Fraser pushed Ray flat on his back and returned the favor. Ray’s husky moan made Fraser’s blood sing. Yes, there were better things than sleep.

* * *

Fraser was on his way to the break room to get a coffee when another headache made itself known. He pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed a sigh. He was prone to headaches lately. He had attributed them to the changes in weather, but it had been rather bracing and cool all day.

As long as he didn’t need a pill it was manageable. But it was rather distracting, he thought, dismayed.

But after their break a call came in reporting a mugging and that kept them busy enough that Fraser successfully forgot about his headache. When they finally returned to the station, Fraser was glad to call it a day… not as glad as Ray, though, who hadn’t stopped complaining once since he had been doused with stale beer at an Irish pub– it hadn’t been Fraser’s fault that he had correctly identified the raised voices coming from inside for a robbery in the making.

“How come you look just as spotless as you did this morning, huh?” Ray grouched.

“I really couldn’t say, Ray. I hadn’t planned for this to happen when we took cover behind the beer barrels.”

“That’s what you always say,” Ray pointed out.

Yes, well… he never did it on purpose, after all.

Ray went into the men’s room to get cleaned up, followed by a string of rude remarks about showing up at work drunk from Detective Dewey. Fraser winced. He would have to offer some kind of compensation to Ray tonight. Fraser thought about that for a moment. This could turn out interesting. He tried to keep his smile in check as he sat down to fill out their report.

He was almost finished when he lost his grip on the pen. Bewildered, he reached for it again only to find out that he appeared to have problems holding it. He must’ve sprained something when they had dived for cover. There were only a few points missing in his report so Fraser switched hands. His penmanship with his left hand wasn’t what one might call elegant, but compared to what Ray passed off as hand-writing most of the time Fraser didn’t think the Lieutenant would take offence.

Fraser had just stapled the pages when Ray returned with still slightly wet hair. “Fraser, I stink like a whole brewery. Can we please call this a day so that I can grab a real shower?”

“Of course, Ray.”

Fraser followed Ray outside. “You know, Ray, beer has often been used as a hair-softener—”

“Fraser, you sure it didn’t soften your _brain_?”

Fraser chuckled quietly. When they were safely inside of Ray’s car, Fraser reached over and mussed Ray’s damp hair. “I’ve been told I give a rather decent head massage,” Fraser offered.

Ray grinned at him. “The guy who told you that must’ve been a very wise one,” Ray quipped. “Don’t think I’ll let you weasel out of it now that you offered.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fraser replied earnestly. From the back seat, Diefenbaker barked.

Fraser looked into the rearview mirror. “No, I’m afraid the weasel was purely metaphorical.” Dief looked mildly disappointed.

* * *

Morning was not Ray’s favorite time of the day. He groaned as the beeping of the alarm kept grinding against his eardrum. Blearily, Ray blinked awake.

“What the…” Ray mumbled. He never heard the alarm. Mr. 5-AM-Equals-Morning was always up at least 5 minutes before the blasted thing even had a chance of going off. Maybe Fraser had forgotten to turn it off when he grabbed a shower?

Yeah, Ray snickered, as if Fraser ever forgot something.  Ray turned around. No, Mr. Super-Mountie was still out for the count.

Cool, Ray grinned. Nothing gave you the feeling of being Superman more than putting Fraser into a sex-induced coma.

Ray’s day was brightening considerably. Well, he wouldn’t rub it in… much. Ray dragged his ass into the shower and by the time he came out Fraser was at least up– awake would be exaggerating.

Ray frowned. “Hey, Ben, everything all right?”

Fraser rubbed a hand over his forehead. He nodded and gave Ray a small smile. “Thank you, I’m fine. I must’ve overslept.”

Ray grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “That’s what can happen when you have sex with yours truly. Sorry, should’ve come with a warning sign,” Ray said, unrepentant.

Fraser’s lips twitched. “Ah, I see. Consider myself adequately warned.”

By the time Ray had dropped Fraser off at the Consulate and started on his open cases at the 27th he had almost forgotten about the incident again. When Fraser showed up to help him with his paperwork on the Donald-Duck-Bank-Robbery– and no, Ray still hadn’t figured out why the guys had opted for Donald Duck masks to conduct their heist in the first place– Ray had enough on his plate to forget about teasing the man.

But Ray remembered it again when Fraser kept on frowning at nothing in particular. Ray followed the direction of Fraser’s gaze and came face to face with the withered plant on the filing cabinet behind his desk. Fraser could not have taken offence at his treatment of plants at this juncture, could he? …juncture… oh God, he was spending way too much time with Fraser.

“I know it looks bad,” Ray began jokingly, “but I swear that this thing is not my responsibility. Frannie dragged the thing in here so she’s gotta be the one to take care of it.”

Fraser looked bewildered for a moment. “I’m sorry, but what on earth are you talking about?”

Ray pointed at the dead plant. “You were giving poor droughty here the evil eye and I just wanted to make sure you knew it wasn’t me.”

Fraser finally noticed the plant. “Oh. No, I wasn’t thinking about the Philodendron. Though now that you mention it, it is in a really appalling state—”

Ray looked stricken. Great, did he have to start Fraser on plant rights now of all things? He did not want to discuss plants. Nu-uh.

“Okay, got it. Be nice to the green stuff. Why do you keep on frowning then?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really. I simply seem to have a rather persistent headache and I was trying to repel it with a mental exercise,” Fraser explained.

Huh. “You never get headaches,” Ray accused.

Fraser’s brows drew together. “Don’t be silly, Ray. I’m human. I get headaches and I get hungry, or sad, or tired,” Fraser said, annoyed.

“Yeah, but it never shows,” Ray answered calmly. “So if you make a face because of a headache that one’s got to be the size of Canada.”

“It’s not as bad as you make it out to be,” Fraser started one of his long explanations, and Ray knew that it would involve a lot of big words that he couldn’t memorize anyway, and when Fraser was finished Ray would’ve completely forgotten what the issue had been to begin with. He was really good at Fraserish nowadays, Ray thought with a smirk.

“Fine, have it your way,” Ray interrupted. If Fraser didn’t want a painkiller far be it from Ray to force one down his throat. “But tell me when it gets worse, all right?”

But, of course, Fraser didn’t say anything. Ray sighed. That man was as stubborn as a brick. Even though Ray had noticed that Fraser must have been really suffering from his headache – hell, Ray had even seen him fiddle around with the pen in his hand, his concentration had been that bad.

It would be a lot easier to help Fraser if he would just let Ray help. Well, he did let Ray help– just as long as it didn’t appear as if that’s what Ray was doing. Fraser was a very proud brick.

It wasn’t even pride, not really, Ray knew that. It was just that Fraser had these ideas about self-sufficiency and independence and all that stuff and getting it into that thick skull that it was okay to need someone once in a while was like the story of the last Mohican – a noble cause and a worthy goal, but it didn’t impress the guys with the firearms and the cannons all that much.

Good thing that Ray had outgrown Western movies a long time ago. Instead, Ray had spent all of his teenage years reading spy novels. Figures that it would pay off when he had to deal with a Canadian. The best way to get past a brick was to sneak up on it, appear as harmless as a feather, so that it wouldn’t know what hit it when he got the hammer and the chisel out. Ray was the king of the underhanded maneuver.

“Frase… let’s go home,” Ray had stepped up way too close behind Fraser, just like he had always done. His murmur held just the right amount of urgency to make Fraser sit up and take notice.

“Shouldn’t we at least finish the report for the—”

“No,” Ray’s murmur was almost tangible against Fraser’s skin. “If we stay any longer we might get arrested.”

“For what?” Fraser asked, but Ray saw the lip-lick and knew he had won.

“Public indecency, c’mon.”

Ray reined his smile back in as Fraser started gathering the remaining paperwork in his arms with startling efficiency.

Back at home, Ray dimmed the lights and put on some mellow soul number. He ordered Fraser out of his uniform and when Fraser finally sat down on the couch in some comfortable clothes, Ray moved behind him to massage the tense muscles.

Fraser groaned gratefully and let his head hang forward. Ray smiled to himself. He would gladly help Fraser any which way– and if he could do it so easily he didn’t mind deceiving Fraser a little in his fantasies about self-reliance.

It took a bit of dedication, but finally, Fraser was relaxed and apparently not hurting anymore. The loose smile on his face looked good on him, Ray thought with an affectionate smile of his own. Ray brushed his lips against Fraser’s temple.

“Let’s get you to bed…” he murmured.

* * *

Fraser woke up with a start as the bathroom door fell shut. He gasped with the sudden onslaught of the same headache that had been haunting him for most of yesterday.Intrigued, Fraser stared at his right hand. It tingled: a strange mixture between warmth and numbness. This, Fraser had to admit, wasn’t very promising. Calm, all Fraser had to do was keep calm. He had hoped that it would recede by the time Ray came out of the bathroom, but to no avail.

Ray took one look at him and immediately dropped to his knees in front of him. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look white as a sheet, Ben.”

“It’s the headache again,” Fraser admitted. “It’s making me feel nauseated. I’m sure it’ll pass in a few minutes.”

“Fraser, I think we should see a doctor,” Ray said firmly.

‘We’, Fraser wanted to shake his head and smile. It was so Ray to speak of Fraser’s own health issues as their shared problem. Fraser was about to say that Ray was overreacting, but his hand started to tremble and it took every bit of control not to let Ray notice. He didn’t want to worry him; Ray always cared too much for his own good. Maybe Ray had a point.

Muscle spasms weren’t exactly in the same league as a simple cold. It couldn’t hurt to have a doctor check it out.

Fraser managed to get into the shower by himself while Ray went into the kitchen to prepare something for a quick breakfast.

The sensation of washing himself was odd since his right hand had lost almost all sensation and now that Fraser was concentrating on it he realized that his left hand was also numb in a few spots. Seeing a doctor might really not be untoward at this point, Fraser thought.

Fraser toweled himself off and made his way back into the bedroom to get dressed. He was almost through the door when the bed in front of him blurred together with the wardrobe. Surprised, Fraser stumbled, but his vision still didn’t clear.

Fraser swallowed hard for a second and kept perfectly still. He closed his eyes. Keep calm, he reminded himself again. He had been blind once already. He found his way to the bed with a little care. He opened his eyes again and was relieved to find that the room had come back into focus.

He took a deep breath. Good, now he could proceed with getting dressed without any obstacles.

Fraser pushed away from the bed– and almost fell. His right leg wouldn’t support him. He tried getting up again, but it was useless.

“Ray!” Fraser called, trying to keep his voice in control. Fraser winced when he heard the nervous tremor in his own voice.

In an instant, Ray appeared in the doorway with a worried look. Apparently, Fraser really hadn’t been successful at keeping the distress out of his voice. A headache, Fraser might have waved aside. Even an involuntary muscle spasm, a one-time occurrence, would have been no reason for concern.

But Fraser had read enough medical books to know that there were only two regions in the human body that could control nerve endings in the limbs as well as the optic nerve.  The brain. Or the spine.

And Fraser had a bad feeling that he knew which one this was.

“I’m afraid something is not quite right,” Fraser managed to get out, breathing heavily.

Ray’s fingers were touching his shoulder in a reassuring grip. “It’s okay. We’ll get you to a hospital. Tell me what’s wrong.” Ray looked serious and determined.

Fraser laughed. It was a sound like dust over rusted metal. “Well, in addition to a splitting headache I seem to be losing control over my extremities and my eyesight.”

Ray set his jaw and refused to be intimidated. “I’ll call an ambulance. And then we’ll get you dressed. I’m right here with you, buddy. It’ll be all right,” Ray said in a remarkably calm voice despite the fact that his cheeks had lost all color.

He’s a police officer and well-acclimated to shock and people in distress, Fraser reminded himself. Still, he knew how much Ray cared for him and he felt a wave of gratitude that Ray portrayed nothing but calm and control even though Fraser could clearly see from the tight line of Ray’s lips that it cost him.

With another reassuring caress, Ray left the room to get the telephone. He was back a moment later.

“Good, let’s get you dressed. We have ten minutes.”

* * *

Ray was pretty sure that his feet would have trodden a dent into the gray linoleum floor in about 5 more minutes. No one was telling him anything. If somebody asked him one more time if he was family he would forget himself and people would get to meet the most unlikely Canadian ever to greet the face of this earth. And if he had to be Fraser’s weird cousin who crawled out from under an igloo when he was 12 he didn’t care—if no one told him what was going on in the next 5 minutes he would—

“Detective Kowalski?”

“Yeah?” Ray whirled around. The small nurse looked taken aback.

“You can go in now,” she said and she didn’t even manage to get ‘if you want to’ out before Ray had already stormed past her.

“Fraser?” Ray called as he opened the door.

“I’m here, Ray,” Fraser said from the bed. Of course, duh, where else would he be?

Ray was waiting for one of Fraser’s usual stories about something his dad had said or someone he knew from kindergarten had done that was similar to his own experience– at least that was similar according to Fraser. Mostly, Ray didn’t see the similarities.

But Fraser just kept on smiling this vague smile and Ray’s heart dropped like a stone.

“And? What did they tell you?” Ray asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.

Fraser smoothed out the bed sheet while he answered. “I don’t know yet. The test results aren’t back yet.”

Ray relaxed a little again. He would never reach 50 this way.

“Did you hear anything? As to what they think happened, I mean,” Fraser asked quietly. It kind of freaked Ray out that Fraser was so calm. If it were him in that hospital bed he would be trashing the place and hollering the roof down… and Fraser wasn’t a very quiet guy. That man could talk your ear off if he set his mind to it… okay, he could make something else go off just by talking, too, but that wasn’t the point here. The point was that Fraser had an opinion on everything and he always told everybody all about it– to the often strained patience of his audience. Ray almost smiled against his will.

He sat down next to Fraser and took his hand. He traced a smooth circle with his thumb over the back of Fraser’s hand and smiled at Fraser.

“No, they wouldn’t tell me anything. I’m not family—”

Fraser opened his mouth to protest, but Ray shook his head. They’d had this conversation before. “No, according to the law I ain’t and whether we agree or not doesn’t change a thing. Trust me, I tried, but no one stayed long enough to kick’em in the head.”

That coaxed a smile on Fraser’s face.

Ray had used his time waiting to go through countless possibilities, though. But he didn’t want to worry Fraser.

They hadn’t been in any kind of accident over the past few weeks – which was a miracle in itself – and Fraser hadn’t hit his head either – another thing that Ray had marked with a red pen in his calendar. Ray wasn’t stupid; he knew that the brain could go cuckoo just from sitting at home, but ever since Fraser had said that he couldn’t feel his legs anymore Ray had thought of that bullet in his back. Lodged right next to the spine.

Ray had read Vecchio’s files. They said that the bullet was found in the T8 vertebrae, the thoracic region. Ray had had no idea where that was or what that meant, but he had looked it up and there was a lot of talk about ‘spinal nerves,’ and getting a bullet there could not be a good thing.

If he had read Vecchio’s file correctly then Fraser could be glad to be alive… that he had made a full recovery… god, thinking about it made Ray want to beat Vecchio to a pulp—no, he knew, God, he knew the story… maybe he would’ve reacted the same way. He had no idea.

Vecchio loved Fraser like a brother, they were best buddies. If Vecchio could’ve done this without hurting Fraser than he would have. But… god, it made Ray mad.

And now Fraser was having problems getting his legs underneath him, and he said his hands were feeling numb, and the damn headache Fraser had brushed aside…

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Ray murmured, squeezing Fraser’s hand once. They had come so far, they would get past this as well. Hell, they had survived looking for the hand of Franklin—they had survived nuclear submarines, nerve gas, ghost ships, and voodoo—they would get through something as ordinary as a hospital stay.

There was a knock on the door and the next moment Fraser’s doctor appeared in the doorway.

“Ah, Corporal Fraser, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thank you ki—”

“He’s not freakin’ fine,” Ray interrupted. “You’ve left us waiting for hours! How do you think he feels?”

The doctor looked surprised at Fraser’s volatile visitor. After a short glance at his notes the doctor’s face cleared. “You must be Detective Kowalski. You brought him here if my information is correct.”

“Yeah, I did. So what’s the deal? Is he going to be fine?”

“Detective Kowalski, I’m afraid this is strictly confidential and something I should discuss with Corporal Fraser in private,” the doctor began his apology.

Ray was bristling, but before he could erupt, Fraser was already answering. He squeezed Ray’s hand back.

“I would like him to stay if it’s all the same to you. It will save me repeating myself and Ray can inform my superior officer as well as my colleagues at the 27th precinct.”

The doctor didn’t look particularly happy. He sighed and fixed Ray with a long-suffering look. Ray smirked.  Oh, no, Mister, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Ray thought vindictively. Politeness was not Ray’s middle name. Tenacity on the other hand…

“I’m afraid that it’s serious,” the doctor stated.

Ray felt the color drain from his face. Fraser kept on looking inquisitively at the doctor, but Ray could see the tension running through him underneath the calm exterior.

“The bullet in your back has shifted towards the spine. It’s now wedged against nerves that control your extremities. If we don’t remove the bullet those nerves might die completely. Nerve damage is often permanent and if the bullet does not get removed with surgery then I can guarantee you that you will lose all movement– possibly more, it’s hard to say which nerves will be affected in the long run.”

Ray’s eyes flicked from the doctor to Fraser and back again. Ben… oh god… this couldn’t be true… dammit, he’d kill Vecchio as soon as the bastard got back from his honeymoon with Ray’s ex-wife. Ray squeezed Fraser’s hand again to—hell, he didn’t know—but he had to do _something_ , hadn’t he? There had to be something he could do to help?

“I see,” Fraser’s voice was devoid of emotions and Ray hated it, hated it already. He didn’t want Fraser to sound so matter-of-fact—he didn’t want Fraser to sound so dead.

“I was told the wound was inoperable; surgery was too risky,” Fraser stated.

The doctor nodded gravely. “Yes, and I can’t tell you that the risk has gotten any less. I’m sorry. There is a risk that the surgery will damage the spine—”

“—which would paralyze me as well,” Fraser interrupted and Ray tasted the tang of copper on his tongue.

“Yes, it is a risk you will have to take. The alternative is a slowly-approaching loss of control over your arms and legs with no chance of recovery.”

“I understand,” Fraser said with a frown.

Ray felt – maybe for the first time in his life – completely empty. There were simply too many emotions, like a black hole. It was too much chaos and it all got sucked inside, leaving a predatory void gaping inside of him, like the huge jaw of some malevolent beast. He wanted to rage and he wanted to cry and he wanted to demand that someone do something and he wanted to rant about the unfairness of it all– but all he could see was Fraser, sitting in the white hospital bed, with that brittle smile on his lips.

“There has to be another way,” Ray finally managed to get out. He had wanted to sound tough, to infuse his voice with confidence to be strong for Fraser. But his voice came out small and hoarse.

“I’m sorry, Detective Kowalski. I assure you if we had a choice we would do our utmost to avoid surgery. As it is we can only try to prevent the nerves from taking any more damage.”

Fraser’s voice cut through the room like a shot. “You mean you can’t guarantee a full recovery even if you operate.”

Ray gaped. “That—no—no, right? If he has the surgery he’ll be all right… right?” Ray realized that he was moving up on the soles of his feet: his posture for interviewing a suspect. He had even taken a step towards the doctor. But the doc seemed sympathetic, not scared.

And that made Ray feel even worse. If this was so bad that the doc wasn’t even intimidated because he was feeling so sorry for them then… this was really bad.

The doctor cleared his throat. “We can’t guarantee you that the surgery will be successful in restoring the mobility and the level of sensation you have already lost. You have to understand that nerves don’t grow back. They may heal with time, but there’s no guarantee.”

No guarantee. Ray couldn’t hear it anymore.

“I need to think about it,” Fraser said slowly.

The doctor nodded. “I would advise you not to spend too much time thinking about it. The sooner we can remove the bullet the better your chances are for recovery.”

“Thank you kindly.”

The white coat vanished through the door and the door fell closed with a final-sounding ‘click.’

Ray stared at Fraser.

“You’re not considering skipping the surgery, right?” Ray asked loudly, too loud for the small room. Fraser winced.

“Listen, he said you can make a full recovery if you get the blasted bullet out—that’s good, right?”

“Yes, but the surgery might damage the spine and I could end up paralyzed,” Fraser said bluntly.

Ray looked taken aback. “You won’t,” he said firmly. “And he said your chances were next to none if you didn’t get it out—any chance is better than no chance, don’t you think?”

Fraser was quiet. His stare seemed to go far away.

“Frase… Ben… talk to me, buddy,” Ray said in a small voice.

“Yes, I don’t seem to have much choice…” Fraser lapsed into another silence.

“Ben, it’ll be all right. Trust me on this, you’re gonna be fine,” Ray tried to reassure him. God, he had never felt this stupid and helpless ever before. There had to be something he could say that hadn’t been said in every bad movie already, hadn’t there?

“And what if I won’t, Ray? I appreciate your faith in my recovery, but it is a very real possibility that I won’t make a full recovery. I might end up in a wheelchair.”

Ray flinched and Fraser almost smiled.

“See, it’s not so easy to think about it. One week from now, I could be a cripple with no use of my legs and severely limited sensation in my hands—”

Ray’s hands clamped like a vice around Fraser’s shoulders. “Stop talking shit, Fraser. You’ll get the bullet out and then we will see to it that you’ll get better,” Ray said with conviction.

“No, Ray. You have to entertain the thought that I might not get better again,” Fraser’s voice was hard and Ray frowned.

“Ben, we’ll figure something out, okay? Endangering our lives in wildly bizarre ways might be difficult in a wheelchair, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to do it,” Ray tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m not talking about my job,” Fraser exclaimed– but Ray saw the pain flit over his face as he said it and thought that maybe Fraser had been trying not to think about that aspect.

“About what then?” Ray asked confused.

“About you, Ray. I’m talking about you and that you will have to consider the possibility that the surgery won’t be successful.”

“So what, Ben? You’re still you. I don’t see why that should change anythi—”

“Of course it would change things, Ray,” Fraser snapped at him.

Ray reared back. Fraser’s blue eyes looked cold and full of pain. Impulsively, Ray grabbed Fraser by the neck and crushed their mouths together. It was an angry kiss, hurtful and punishing, but Ray reveled in the desperation Fraser put into it. Finally some real emotion behind that stoic façade.

After a moment, Ray spread his fingers over Fraser’s cheek, cupping his face. He gentled the kiss, smoothing over Fraser’s cheek bones, until Fraser’s arms came around to hold him close. Ray pulled an inch away, breathing heavily. “You’re an asshole, Fraser.” He kissed him again. Anything was better than the calm Mountie-mask. Fraser never let himself go around anyone else and Ray kind of got a kick out of it that Fraser seldom, very seldom, but at least he could, lose control around Ray.

A little while later, the doctor reappeared.

“Have you come to a decision?” He asked seriously.

“I will consent to the surgery,” Fraser said quietly and Ray smiled proudly at him.

The doctor seemed relieved. “I’m glad to hear it, Corporal Fraser. We are still waiting for a few test results and once we are satisfied with those I’ll try to schedule your surgery as soon as possible. I only have a few general questions about your symptoms and then we can discuss your stay here.”

Fraser nodded. Ray was still hovering at his side, pale but determined. He felt as if he hadn’t slept in days and he still wasn’t sure if everything that had happened was actually real. It simply seemed too weird to be true. It couldn’t really be happening to them, could it?

“Did you experience any problems while urinating lately?” The doc looked at his check list.

Ray was already mentally shaking his head when Fraser quietly answered. “Yes, now and again.”

Ray’s head snapped around to him.

“Was that a recent symptom? And was it accompanied by traces of blood?”

“Fairly recent, a few weeks I think. And no, no blood. Urinating itself was simply rather painful.”

The doctor nodded again in a way other people would agree that the weather really was bad at the moment.

“We will have to face the possibility that your kidneys have been affected. I will schedule another test for tomorrow morning. Is there someone who could provide you with a few necessities for your stay here?”

“I will,” Ray said before Fraser could answer.

The doctor almost smiled. “Very well. I will leave you to discuss this then. Corporal, someone will inform you as to the date of your surgery– should we find anything else tomorrow that would cause us to delay it. I’ll send a nurse in to hook you up to a catheter, Corporal. Detective,” he tipped his non-existent hat and vanished in a billow of white coat.

“What the hell, Fraser?” Ray exclaimed. “You’ve been having problems for weeks and you didn’t even tell me?” Ray didn’t want to sound hurt, but it was kinda hard to keep it out of his voice.

Fraser sighed. “I didn’t want to worry you, and a little discomfort when relieving the bladder can have a lot of harmless causes. It is hardly the cause for an international broadcast. Had it persisted I would’ve seen a doctor about it.”

“Yeah… right,” Ray snorted with his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s not partners, Ben.”

Fraser had that stubborn set to his mouth that Ray knew from experience. It meant that Fraser was 100% sure that he had acted reasonable and in the best common interest. It was a lost cause. God… sometimes Fraser was the most infuriating man on the planet.

“I didn’t know that you put quite so much interest in my bowel movements,” Fraser replied snippily.

Ray rolled his eyes. “It’s not about that and you know it…” Ray sighed. “I don’t wanna fight with you about this … anything special I should get you from home?”

“No, I don’t think I will need anything in particular. I would appreciate a book, though.”

“A book, gotcha. I’ll try to bring Dief, but it might be best to wait until after your surgery.”

Fraser agreed.

“Okay, I’ll—I’ll be right back,” Ray said uncertainly. He kissed Fraser again quickly and left. This was all happening too fast.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Fraser relaxed a little once he was alone. He was glad that Ray had already left when the nurse bustled in to prepare everything to insert the catheter. He knew it was a standard procedure… it just… he flushed. It was embarrassing and degrading and he rather Ray didn’t witness it.

He knew there was absolutely nothing about a catheter to be ashamed of, but he didn’t appreciate drawing attention to the fact that he couldn’t even relieve his bladder on his own anymore.

He didn’t want Ray to see him like this.

Fraser frowned at the bag hooked up on a stand next to his bed. Maybe he could drape a blanket over it so that Ray wouldn’t notice. He sighed… he should have expected this. He should have been better prepared.

Fraser lay staring at the ceiling for a long time. His right hand was tingling a little… at least he did feel something, he concluded.

He tried moving his legs, but the right one didn’t budge an inch. He could still feel his leg when he pinched it, he just couldn’t seem to control it.

What would happen to him if he never regained the use of his legs? What if his spine got damaged further– maybe robbing him of more than just the mobility of his legs?

It was hard to imagine. The last time… Fraser stumbled over that thought. Yes, the last time he hadn’t been able to use his legs like he was used to either. The last time he had to use a wheelchair for most of his movements as well. The last time… he hadn’t been occupied with his own recovery so much as with… _Victoria_ ….

He remembered spending days… nights… weeks, just imagining glimpses of her, remembering moments they had shared. The video without sound. The chance meeting at that diner. Her pulling the gun and aiming it at his chest that first time in the car… he had known she wouldn’t shoot him.

… or he hadn’t wanted to think that she could be able to. So he trusted that she wouldn’t harm him. And she hadn’t shot him. Ray Vecchio had… Fraser sighed. It was such a long time ago. He had forgiven Ray Vecchio for it– or he had thought so at least.

He hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but there had been a time when he couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened had Ray not shot him. Fraser would’ve gone with her. He had often wondered how that would’ve turned out.

He never believed in her enough to track her down and find out. He could have. He could have simply gotten up and left; he could’ve joined her. Fraser had no doubt that he would’ve found her had he really set his mind to it. But he hadn’t…. but the ‘what if’ had stayed with him a long, long time.

Gingerly, he moved his hand along his back until his fingers touched the scar tissue. It didn’t feel any different. Wasn’t it ironic that his old wound should bring him down after all? It was probably just as well that Ray Vecchio was still away on his honeymoon with Stella Kowalski… well, Stella Vecchio now, he supposed.

Ray had also come a long way… who would’ve thought that he could actually face the fact that Stella was marrying someone else? Of course, he hadn’t gone as far as to attend their wedding, but that would probably have been too cruel to ask. But Ray had allowed her to move on with a smile for her and a threat for Ray Vecchio because… well, because of Fraser himself.

Because Ray had moved on. And Fraser had moved on as well… hadn’t he?

His fingers followed the ridges of the scarred flesh. It felt smooth, just different than the rest of the skin around it. And he knew, were he to look at it, he would find rose-colored flesh the size of a quarter. Just where the dip of the spine ended. Like the full stop underneath a question mark.

He didn’t want to open that old wound again. It had healed and Fraser had the scar to prove it. Why was it that his past came back to haunt him now– now that he had begun to build a life with Ray? Why did this old, ugly truth have to rear its head now of all times? Years later.

Some wounds were better left alone.

* * *

“Hey furface!” Ray called as he entered their apartment.

Dief didn’t look at all happy and Ray winced. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Gee… we couldn’t bring you, okay? It all happened so fast…”

Dief flattened his ears and whimpered.

“No, I know you’ve been worried about him, too.” Ray crouched down to ruffle his fur.

“Fraser has to get surgery to get that bullet removed, okay? But it’s a risky operation and… recovery will be a tough road.”

Dief barked a couple of times and thumped his tail on the floor. Ray smiled and brushed his hand over Dief’s head. “I told him he will be fine. You and me, we’ll see him through this, won’t we?”

Dief yipped and jumped up. Ray grinned. “Gotta love the wolf.”

“Okay, so what do I need to pack?” Ray scratched his head. “Clothes, let’s start with clothes.”

As long as Ray was busy packing he was alright. But once he had everything in a bag reality crashed in. “Oh God…” Ray suddenly mumbled and sank down in front of their bed. Ben was getting surgery. And it wasn’t looking too good, even Ray had to admit that. Last time everyone had said he was going to make a full recovery. And now people didn’t even want to commit to say he would come through the surgery all right.

Fraser had been having pains for weeks… and he hadn’t told Ray. What did that tell him about their relationship? Ray shook his head. There were more important things at stake here than Fraser not telling him about it. At least for the moment there were.

“A book…” Ben had wanted a book. Ray nodded to himself. This was something he could do. He went to the little book shelf in the living room. Hmm… he had no idea if there was one Fraser hadn’t already read. What about _Moby Dick_? Ray leafed through the pages and came across the ending. Great, most of the crew died. So… no.

Blake… no idea who that was. Lots of stuff about hell and damnation. Another no-no.  What was that one? Something by a Russian guy. _Anna Karenina_? Oooooh no, Ray remembered that one. Fraser had told him the story once. She threw herself in front of a train in the end. God, did Fraser even own one non-depressing book?

In the end, Ray opted for a selection of short stories– hoping that not all of them ended with the gruesome death of the protagonist. He really had to get Fraser something else to read for his hospitalization.

Fraser would be all right… wouldn’t he? Fraser always got out of all kinds of hairy situations more or less unscathed. But what if Fraser did end up tied to a wheelchair?

For Fraser, that must be almost as bad as dying, Ray thought with a shock. He wouldn’t be able to follow suspects up on roofs anymore, he couldn’t track litterbugs across the wilderness, he couldn’t drive a sled anymore.

Ray shook his head. No, even if Fraser couldn’t use his legs anymore they would get through this somehow. Fraser could, dunno, start a basketball team for people in wheelchairs. Stuff like that existed. They would have to move, but there was little that kept Ray attached to his old place. As long as Fraser was still there it would be all right. They could still talk, and kiss, and as long as he could be with Fraser life would go on.

…besides, Fraser was one stubborn bastard. If anyone had the single-mindedness to get through months of physio therapy it was Fraser.

Ray looked around their apartment and then again down at his feet where Fraser’s bag was waiting. The place felt empty already Ray thought sadly before he shouldered the bag with a determined growl and marched out of the door. Fraser was coming back. It was only temporary after all.

He needed to stop being such a wimp. He needed to be strong for Fraser– Fraser needed someone he could rely on, someone to help him through this now. If Ray turned into a blubbering wreck Fraser would be all on his own. Ray set his jaw. No, Fraser couldn’t know how much he needed him. For the moment, Ray had to be the strong one so that Fraser didn’t have to be.

The door clicked into the lock behind him.

* * *

The day before the surgery passed in the blink of an eye. Fraser thought this was probably always the case when you wanted time to stand still. Of course he was relieved that his kidneys hadn’t been affected yet– he just wanted to keep the illusion of uncertainty up a while longer. Once he came back from the surgery he would know – for better or worse – whether he would ever be able to regain the use of his legs.And if he didn’t… he’d rather not know for another day or two. It also wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the confidence all of his friends and colleagues put into his recovery, but there was no evidence to suggest that their hopes were well-founded.

He was grateful for Inspector Thatcher’s and Lieutenant Welsh’s visit, but he would rather be alone. He was tired of admitting that he really couldn’t move his legs, and of fending off the question whether or not he was afraid of the surgery. What was he supposed to say? No, of course not, this was all in a day’s work for him?

Maybe they thought it was.

Towards the evening, he was finally left alone with Ray. Another nurse came bustling in shortly after the last visitor had left.

“I’m going to give you a mild sedative,” she explained with a smile. “I know you didn’t want any pain medication, but this will relax the muscles and it will help you sleep. It’s better to be rested for the surgery and you shouldn’t put too much strain on your back. This time it’s really not optional. Consider it the first part of your surgery,” she said.

Fraser wasn’t very fond of pain medication. It made him feel artificial and woozy. Arguing, however, was pointless. And he was too tired to care. If they left him in peace afterwards he would go along with whatever they wanted.

“Try to rest,” she said before she left.

“You should go home, Ray,” Fraser said quietly. Ray had been at his side the whole day; he must be exhausted. “Dief is probably worried.”

“Don’t worry. I gave Turnbull a key when he stopped by earlier. He’ll take care of Dief for tonight. Francesca will stop by the Consulate tomorrow to pick him up. Dief can stay with her and Ante until we can bring him here.”

“Thank you.” Fraser’s voice was soft.

“Sure,” Ray said easily.

The sedative made Fraser’s thoughts sluggish. Today might be the last day where he could believe that he could walk. After tomorrow… who knew?

“I may not be able to walk anymore,” Fraser told the room, trying it out on his tongue which felt fuzzy and thick.

“You will be fine,” Ray said firmly.

“I can’t continue as liaison officer if I can’t walk,” Fraser added. It was only the logical consequence. His grandmother had taught him to think things through. Shying away from the truth never helped. You had to face it boldly; repressing it only led to more grief later on.

“We’ll always be partners.” Ray was sitting in the chair next to his bed. He was looking anxious now.

Fraser felt sleepy. He shouldn’t worry Ray… but Ray needed to face the facts. It was better to be prepared for the worst. That way Ray would be—he’d be— _prepared_ should the need arise. Ray needed to be aware that things might never be the same again… and he needed to understand what this meant. He needed to think about the consequences.

“We might not be able to be together like this,” Fraser murmured; he was rapidly losing the fight of keeping his eyes open.

“Shhh,” Ray’s voice was very close. A warm hand was in his hair and then Ray’s lips were on his. “Stop this, Ben. Have you forgotten? Duets, Fraser, duets.”

Fraser wanted to tell Ray that he couldn’t be sure of that. But he was probably asleep before he could speak the words.

* * *

Ray spent a mostly sleepless night at the hospital. He was worried, he was tired, but most of all he was mad at Fraser.

He knew that Fraser’s attitude did little to change the success of the surgery, but in a way Ray felt that Fraser needed to believe that he would be all right. Of course it was stupid; it didn’t make a stitch of difference to the surgeons whether or not Fraser believed in their skills. But _Ray_ needed Fraser to believe in his recovery.

Fraser sounded as if he had already given up. Just like that. Hell, Fraser had tried to convince Ray to accept that it was going to fail and that was just wrong. Ray never doubted that Fraser would come through this all right– he couldn’t think of it any other way. And Fraser wasn’t doing his share, dammit!

Ray would get them through this– if it killed him. Just to prove Fraser wrong. How dare he resign himself to his fate!

But come morning Fraser was apparently a little more optimistic. Ray just didn’t know if he should be relieved or doubt the authenticity of Fraser’s words instead.

“Ray, stop worrying about me,” Fraser smiled after the nurse had stopped fussing around with the machines and drips and everything else that was connected to Fraser in some way. “I’m sure the surgeons will do their best. And we won’t know the results for a few days anyway.”

Ray gauged Fraser’s expression. He didn’t want Fraser to say that just to make him feel better. Ray wanted him to believe that he would be fine for his own sake.

At least it was better than listening to Fraser’s descriptions of doom. Ray gave him a smile of his own. “I know it will be fine. I just wished you were back in your room already—I’ll be here when you wake up, you know that, right? And I’ll call Welsh and the Ice Queen and let them know,” Ray explained in a rush.

He wished he knew how it really looked inside of Fraser, but there was always someone bustling into the room or someone checking something or someone visiting so that Ray could never grill Fraser.

The doctor came in again an hour before the appointment for the surgery.

“How are we feeling today?” he asked good-naturedly.

Ray wanted to kick him in the head.

“I’m fine, thank you kindly,” Fraser replied. Ray was so sick of hearing him say that. How could anyone lying in a hospital bed and about to undergo major surgery claim to be fine? ‘Fine’ what did that even mean?  Loads of bullshit, that’s what it meant.

“The surgery will affect the surrounding area and there will be swelling that might prevent you from moving in varying degrees; it’s hard to say in advance. We can’t be sure before you’re out of surgery again. I just want to warn you that there is no cause to be alarmed should you be unable to feel your legs or your arms when you wake up– it is perfectly normal and to be expected.”

‘Normal’, Ray was about to have hysterics. Did these people listen to themselves?

“Depending on the amount of damage it can take up to a week for the swelling to recede again. There is no telling how long it will take to regain the use of your legs again, I’m afraid. We will have to schedule physical therapy once the wound has healed far enough not to risk further nerve damage.”

“I understand.  I am familiar with the procedure.”

Ray worried his lip. Did Vecchio have to leave on his honeymoon _now_? Ray got the feeling that it might’ve been a good idea to call him up and ask him what Fraser had been like that last time. It might’ve been helpful to know what to expect. But there was no way he was going to call Stella on her honeymoon to tell them that Fraser might lose the use of his legs because of the time Vecchio shot him.

That could put a damper on any newlywed bliss… even though Ray didn’t think the bliss could be such a big deal to begin with. She had married Vecchio after all. Ray smothered a grin.

Besides, there was nothing, really, Vecchio could do to help. Ray didn’t look forward to telling him the news when they came back, though. He winced. He could hear the shouting already.

“Detective Kowalski, if I could persuade you to leave now?” the doctor said with a smile. “We do need to get our patient ready for surgery. I’ll be back in a minute and I want my patient to be alone when I come back.”

“Gotcha,” Ray muttered.

Fraser tried to keep the smile in. Ray could even make out the laugh lines around his eyes. Bastard, he thought affectionately.

“You know that I love you, right? You’ll be fine. We’re in this together no matter what, okay?” Ray said urgently.

“And I you, Ray. Go home and get some rest, please.”

Ray smiled. “Sure, I will.” As if. A whole army wouldn’t get him to leave the hospital while Fraser was in the OR.

* * *

Ray went downstairs to the waiting room. He sighed. Now all he could do was wait… not that this differed much from what he had done so far. He hated feeling useless… Might as well bite the bullet now… Ray winced at his choice of words. But he really wasn’t looking forward to making the necessary calls.Thatcher seemed to be unusually patient with Ray and she appeared to be relieved that everything was going according to plan so far. She promised to let Constable Turnbull and the wolf know and Ray was grateful for her practical nature.

The only one more practical was definitely his Lieutenant. Welsh was very sympathetic and told Ray again that the Constable had come through every sort of freak accident alright so far and that he was confident that this was no exception. Ray smiled a little. Yeah, Welsh knew Fraser’s history of amnesia, stabbed legs, shot legs, and shot back. There was some evidence to suggest that Welsh had a point.

At last, Ray called Frannie to let her know that Fraser was getting surgery now.

Ray collapsed into one of the horrible beige plastic chairs in the waiting room. God… this might take hours. Without a notice. Without any news. And they wouldn’t even be any wiser once the surgery was over. They had been told, over and over again, that it would be a few days before they could form any kind of prognosis.

Ray looked at his jittery hands. God, he was nervous. Waiting always drove him up the wall. And it had not even been an hour yet. Ray sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

“You might want to hold onto this instead,” came a female voice.

Ray’s head snapped up and he found Frannie standing in the door of the waiting room. He got up and pulled her in a hug. “Careful,” she shrieked, trying to keep the paper cup of coffee upright in her hand.

Ray laughed softly. “Thanks, Frannie.”

“Here, I brought you this,” she pulled a bag of M&M’s out of her handbag. “I didn’t know how many you took in your coffee, but I’m sure you’ll make good use of them.”

“You’re a life-saver.”

Ray dropped a couple of M&M’s into the coffee cup and took a seat again. Frannie sat down next to him.

“How are you holding up?” She asked hesitantly after a couple of moments of silence.

“All right,” Ray sighed. “As good as can be expected, I guess.”

She nodded. They fell silent again. Frannie bit her lip. “My brother never forgave himself for shooting him, you know?”

Ray sighed a little. “Yeah, I know.”

“… but he never regretted that it kept Fraser from leaving with… her,” Frannie spat, unusually hateful.

“Fraser never talks about it,” Ray said finally after another lapse into silence.

Frannie looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, I’m sure he doesn’t want to think about it. He probably moved on—who can blame him? I’d rather forget about something like that, too,” she soothed.

“Maybe…” Ray said. He wasn’t so sure. He had thought Fraser had moved on… but then again Fraser had never talked to him about Victoria Metcalf and what she did to him. Most of what Ray knew was from Vecchio and he hadn’t told Ray much; it was clear that it was a sore spot for Vecchio as well and Ray hadn’t wanted to push.

After another hour of waiting, Frannie stood up. “I should go. I promised Renfield to come and fetch Diefenbaker for a walk.”

“Renfield?” Ray smiled, amused.

Frannie colored ever so slightly. “It’s his name, isn’t it?” She replied snippily.

“Sure is,” Ray grinned. “Say ‘hi’ to _Renfield_ ,” Ray stretched the name. “And tell him thanks for doing this,” Ray added softly.

Frannie smiled. “It’s the least we can do.”

Ray watched her go, bemused. Frannie and Turnbull had only run into each other very occasionally, but Ray thought there was something in the making. Frannie had come by the Consulate quite often lately– and ever since she had caught on to the fact that Ray and Fraser were more than just cop partners she had essentially stopped stalking Fraser.

Almost three hours had passed before Ray heard anything.

“Is he alright?” Ray all but blurted when a nurse declared that Fraser was out of surgery.

“He was in the anesthetic recovery room until a few minutes ago. He was experiencing back pain and they put him to sleep again for a while longer. He has been returned to his room now—he’s still asleep, though,” she added.

Okay, okay. Ray tried to calm himself. At least Fraser had gotten through the surgery alright. That was the most they could hope for at this point.

“Did the surgery go okay?” Ray asked with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

“There was a lot of old scar tissue that needed to be removed. The wound was rather deep. But the surgeons were very satisfied with the result. Of course, it’s too earl—”

“To say anything yet, yeah, I know.” Ray tried to keep his impatience in check. “Can I see him?”

“Yes, however, try not to disturb him. Sleep is the best thing he can do at the moment.”

Ray wanted to snap at her that he wouldn’t wake him up, he wasn’t stupid, but he caught himself just in time. They all had Fraser’s best interest at heart. “Thanks,” Ray managed to get out.

By the time he reached Fraser’s room, he was out of breath.

Please, please, please, be okay, Ray prayed for the first time in years.

* * *

Fraser opened his eyes. Interestedly, he looked around the room. This wasn’t his cabin… oh. He smiled. There was Ray.“Hello, Ray,” he slurred. He didn’t even need to reach his hand out; Ray was already at his side. This was a nice dream. He’d had that one a lot… but that was a while ago. Because now Ray wasn’t here, Ray was in Chicago. Ray didn’t know.

Everything around was white… and kind of fuzzy, Fraser noted with rather detached interest. He was probably dead.

“I always wanted to tell you I love you before I died,” Fraser said softly.

Ray’s eyes were wide and shocked. “Ben, you’re—you’re okay. Listen to me, all right? You’ll be fine.”

Sadly, Fraser shook his head. He was glad to see Ray again at least once.

He noticed Dief behind Ray’s shoulder. “Hello boy, I’m sorry, are we in this together? I never meant for this to happen.”

Ray paled and wheeled around to look behind him.

“I knew you couldn’t love me back,” Fraser said with a sad smile on his lips. “But that’s all right, I always knew,” he squeezed Ray’s hand. This was a dream all right; he couldn’t even feel Ray’s hand.

“Frase…” Ray choked. “I love you… always will… okay?”

Fraser looked at Ray’s beloved face again. “Wished…” Fraser’s world faded to white. All the white of the room simply blurred together. And then there was nothing.

* * *

Ray sat there with a hammering heart, still holding Fraser’s hand.

What the hell… was that?

Slowly, Ray turned around again. But Dief really wasn’t here– stupid, of course he wasn’t. He was with Frannie.

And what was all this shit about dying? What little color had returned to his cheeks took another leave of absence.

Saying Fraser would be ‘a little out of it’ when he came to was a bit of an understatement, Ray thought, shaken.

Exhausted, he fell back in his chair. It had taken Fraser a while to wake up and Ray felt drained and tired. But there was no way he would leave. Who knew in what frame of mind Fraser would wake up next.

As soon as Ray’s heart rate had calmed down again, his head sank slowly down on his chest as his eyes fell closed.

* * *

Pain… something… something hurt… Fraser fell into consciousness as startling as if he had walked off a cliff. His eyes flew open and his heart was hammering in his chest.

Fraser took in his surroundings with two quick glances. Beige walls, beige bed, so a hospital. And Ray. Fraser smiled. Ray had fallen asleep in the visitor chair, still holding Fraser’s hand.

He could feel Ray’s hand in his own. Weird, as if his hand at fallen asleep a long time ago, but at least he could feel the pressure from Ray’s hand. He tried moving his legs– or at least he thought that was what he was doing. It might just as well have been an attempt at telekinesis. Not the slightest twitch. Nothing.

Fraser tried to feel his body. He felt the tension in his abdominal muscles, but then the feeling just tapered off, as if a plug had been pulled, slowly draining all feeling away. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. He couldn’t say that he was consciously aware of his thigh or his knee. Before the surgery he had at least been able to make his leg spasm.

“Relax,” came Ray’s sleep-warm voice. “Remember, they told us it would swell up,” his voice sounded rusty and Ray tried to fight a yawn off.

Right. Fraser took a calming breath. Ray was right. He had been told that this was to be expected.

“Are you… in pain?” Ray asked, hesitating in between as if he had wanted to ask something else.

“A little,” Fraser admitted. “But it’s manageable.”

Ray snorted, relieved. “You have a thing, a clicker, beside you. It’s morphine. They said you should use it if the pain gets too much. “

Fraser shook his head. “I’m sure I can manage,” Fraser said with a pained grimace on his face.

“Yeah, you’re awake alright,” Ray replied and pushed the call button.

A nurse came in a minute later.

“Ah, Mr. Fraser, you are awake.” She fussed over a few monitors. “Are you experiencing pain?”

“Nothing more than I think was to be expected,” Fraser said, but it cost him an effort. The nurse frowned. “You really shouldn’t overexert yourself. I’m going to give you something against the pain,” she said and reached over to click once to infuse Fraser with an immediate dose of morphine.

Fraser would have liked to protest, but with every minute he was awake the more real the pain became. “Thank you kindly,” he managed and the nurse smiled. “You’re very welcome. Now you just lay back and rest a little.”

The moment the nurse was out of the door again, Ray’s hand was back on Fraser’s.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Ray murmured.

And as the pain medication worked its magic, Fraser was finally able to take in Ray’s appearance: Dark, purplish circles underneath his eyes, blond stubble on his jaw, and tumbled hair.

A wave of tenderness suffused Fraser. This man was all but impossible.

It took Fraser a conscious effort, but he managed to squeeze Ray’s hand. Ray grinned broadly.

“It’s good to see you,” Fraser admitted softly.

Carefully, Ray placed his hand on Fraser’s thigh, gauging his reaction. “So, you can’t feel anything, right?”

Fraser shook his head, unable to meet Ray’s eyes.

“It’s okay—they said it would happen,” Ray assured him quickly. He moved his hand lower, about to take his hand off, when—

“I feel that,” Fraser surprised himself by saying.

Ray put more pressure on his hand. “Really?”

Ray’s hand was resting firmly underneath his knee.

Fraser frowned. “Yes, but… I can’t move it and it’s only—I only feel pressure and barely at best. Nothing specific.”

“But that’s great, Ben,” Ray sounded really excited.

It could just be a phantom of a feeling, Fraser thought. Ray’s unbridled optimism was welcome, but Fraser was afraid that he would let Ray down if it didn’t work out. It was too early to tell.

Too soon the announcement came that the visiting hours were over. Fraser had slept through most of the day. He was sorry to see Ray go. They had weathered so many storms together; Ray had come to be one of the fixtures in Fraser’s life.

It felt strange in his hand, but Fraser ignored it and reached out for Ray’s hand, pulling him close. When Ray was close enough, Fraser’s hand wandered up to cradle his head. Ray’s hair didn’t feel like much of anything against his palm, but he could feel the warmth of Ray’s nape and Fraser concentrated on that instead.

Ray’s lips opened willingly underneath his own and Fraser took his sweet time. He was glad to have Ray here with him. He deepened the kiss and felt the bed dip beside him as Ray pressed closer against him. Fraser could taste the chocolate from Ray’s coffee and he delved deeper, searching out Ray’s taste. Ray made a soft sound in the back of his throat, part whimper and part moan, and his hands stayed fixed in Fraser’s hair, unwilling to let go.

Fraser never tired of kissing Ray. He nipped at Ray’s bottom lip before he claimed his mouth again and he felt the heat coming off of Ray and the slick wetness of his tongue.

Kissing Ray made him forget that he couldn’t feel his legs because there was nothing more to concentrate on than the feeling of Ray’s lips. Sometimes, kissing Ray felt as if he didn’t even possess a body to speak of; he simply existed in the feeling of the kiss. A space outside of time. A time outside of space.

Slowly, he released Ray again. Ray’s eyes opened languidly and Fraser noticed that they were almost dark green now; arousal had darkened the hazel color of his eyes until there was almost none of that light brown left. Ray’s breathing was rapid and he swallowed hard before he attempted to speak.

“God…” Ray croaked. The flushed face was a good look on him. “Ben…” Ray murmured hoarsely in a voice that Fraser seldom heard outside of the bedroom.

“Visiting hours are over,” came the firm voice from the doorway.

Ray winced. “Yeah—I—sorry, I’ll be gone in a second… just…” He looked helplessly at Fraser. “I’m sorry, I need to—I need to go. I’ll be back here tomorrow morning…” Ray tried to get his bearings. “God…I won’t get any sleep tonight…” Ray muttered with a teasing smile that Fraser knew so well it hurt. “Try to get some rest,” Ray said with another squeeze of Fraser’s hand.

Reluctantly, Ray left and Fraser tried to find a position to lie in that didn’t hurt. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he hadn’t felt any physical reaction to the kiss. Elevated heartbeat and accelerated breathing, yes; lust and arousal, yes, definitely. But no physical proof of that.

Fraser closed his eyes and tried not to think what that meant.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Ray had thought that Fraser able to at least feel the hand vaguely in this one spot was a good thing and that it would follow that he would soon be able to regain his feeling completely.

But two days had already passed and nothing had changed. Fraser was out of it for the most time – which was probably a good thing.

Ray had given up counting how many different drugs Fraser was getting. Anti-spasmodics, anti-emetics—a lot of stuff starting with ‘anti’ and the morphine drip that was merrily dripping away.

And Ray couldn’t count how many meals Fraser had regurgitated. He winced. No wonder what with all the meds he was getting.

For the short amount of time Fraser had been awake he had been calm and composed… well, as composed as one could be under the circumstances, Ray figured. Frannie had come in and sat with him in between so that Ray could get cleaned up, and she had also thought Fraser was holding up rather well.

When Ray came in on the morning of the third day, he instantly knew something was up. Fraser’s tight-lipped, brooding expression spoke volumes. Ray’s heart stuttered to a stop for a second. Oh God… what had happened?

“Frase, are you—” and Ray was damn tired of asking if he was all right. Of course he wasn’t and it was stupid of Ray to keep asking him that. But what else was he supposed to say? “How are you feeling?”

Fraser licked his lips in a very controlled fashion. Ray’s heart was trying to run an obstacle course in ground-breaking record time.

“I don’t feel anything, Ray. Nothing at all, just like yesterday, and the day before. At least, nothing that isn’t pain. My pain is up and about like a prized Caribou, thank you kindly. And I can assure you that prodding my leg or poking it does not yield different results. Neither do I feel electric shocks or differences in temperature. Apparently, everyone in this hospital believes that I wouldn’t notice if I could feel my legs again or that I simply neglected to mention it if I could.”

Ray’s mouth hung open. Fraser? Bitchy? Never on his watch.  “Hey…” Ray sat down on the edge of Fraser’s bed. “They said it might take up to a week, right?”

“Yes, they also said I should be able to feel something after three days. And they also said that I might never regain the feeling in my legs.”

“You will,” Ray interjected. “Just—give it time, okay? The doc said this kinda surgery is traumatic and that—”

“Yes, that the spine almost immediately goes into shock when the scalpel touches the nerves. I have been there for the briefing,” Fraser said humorlessly.

Ray winced sympathetically. He thought Fraser was doing rather well. Ray would’ve already kicked someone in the head were he to endure two days almost motionless in bed.

“You got something to bitch about your hands as well or are they behaving at least?” Ray teased softly.

Fraser looked sternly at him before his lip twitched. “Still numb for the most part.”

“Hey, I always wanted to be able to stub out a cigarette in my hand, trade you?” Ray offered with a little-boy’s-grin.

“Why on earth would you want to put out a cigarette in your hand?” Fraser asked, confused.

“’Cause it’s cool… well, it was when Mickey O’Neill did it in 10th grade, anyway,” Ray laughed.

“In this case I think it’s better if I stay saddled with the numbness for a while longer. At least I don’t add mutilation to the list.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ray grinned.

When Fraser was asleep again, a state that was mostly the rule, Ray did allow himself to worry. It was true; he had also expected Fraser to get better quicker than this. Fraser always bounced back—he was Superman in a way. Nothing could stop him. He jumped off buildings, onto vans, and out of airplanes and always without a hair out of place. Yeah, Ray had been sure Fraser would be the model patient. Out of there in no time.

* * *

It had been such a long time Fraser had almost forgotten how much he abhorred hospitals. The constant medication made him feel sick and not like himself and Fraser didn’t need two dozen tests each day to tell him that he didn’t feel a thing.

He couldn’t even move; he just lay there all day. The sterility of the room itself drove him up the wall. He wanted to be outside, he wanted to breathe fresh air, he wanted to see a real tree and not something someone had sold in a pot.

Of course, Fraser had never harbored the idea that his stay would be quick or that the healing would be fast. But waiting… waiting to know if he would ever be able to walk again… that was agony. He didn’t have any recollection how he had gotten past the uncertainty of his situation the last time, but he assumed that he had simply been… preoccupied. With his partner shooting him. At least he could explain that, and he was glad that Ray Vecchio had prevented him from leaving with Victoria.

He didn’t feel all that relieved at the thought. Not like he thought he should.

…he was glad, wasn’t he?

Back then, thoughts of her had consumed everything else. He hadn’t thought much about himself or his future. He didn’t have one at that time—he couldn’t get past her. He couldn’t comprehend how he had let her go again… he couldn’t comprehend how he could still want her… still love her. And to this day he couldn’t understand why she had done all that. They could have been happy. It could have been simple.

And if it had been solely for revenge then why had she wanted him with her?

“Hey, I brought you another book,” Ray’s voice cut through the storm in his head. “This is my choice, okay? It’s got dead bodies in it so you can’t complain, but the hero makes it out of there alive, all right?”

Fraser smiled. Ray had a rather singular opinion of his reading material. Fraser received the copy of Dashiell Hammett’s _The Maltese Falcon_ with raised eyebrows.

“What? I survived high school with this,” Ray shrugged.

Ray sat down next to him and placed the bag with fresh clothes and the book in Fraser’s lap.

“Your hand is ice-cold. Have temperatures dropped that far already?” Fraser asked, surprised.

“No, I got a coke from the—” Ray stopped and stared at his hand. His hand that was resting on Fraser’s leg.

“Ben…” Ray murmured breathlessly. Ray’s hand caressed Fraser’s leg and Ray’s eyes tracked his expression.

Fraser began to smile. “I can—I can feel that.”

Dignity be damned. Ray threw himself at Fraser and pulled him close for a kiss. “I knew it,” he crowed. “Told you it was going to get better,” Ray sounded like a victorious schoolboy.

For a moment, Fraser wanted to believe him. And with Ray almost wrapped around him and his joyous voice in his ear it was almost too simple to do just that.

For one evening, Fraser’s heart felt light again. The doctors were cautiously optimistic– not going so far as to entertain the thought of a complete recovery, but at least they considered the success of the surgery.

Fraser could still see Ray’s smile so vividly in his mind’s eye. The doctors had said that he might be able to start physical therapy in about two weeks if there were no complications and Fraser wanted so badly to believe that this was true.

He was twice as glad when the doctors decided to cut back on the painkillers. It wasn’t that he was overmuch afraid of getting addicted; he just preferred to be able to tell what his body was feeling. Admittedly, he wouldn’t have managed to get through the last two days without them, but the sheer potency of them was about to eat through his stomach lining, or that’s what it felt like at least.

The nurse told him to just let her know if it got too bad and she would give him something for the pain, but Fraser assured her that this wouldn’t be necessary.

* * *

“You just wait and see,” Ray told Dief a day later. “He’s going to be up and walking in no time.”

Dief wagged his tail.

“Just give him another day or two and then you can come visit him,” Ray ruffled his fur, but Dief began whining.

Ray looked crestfallen. “No—no, I swear, he wants to see you,” Ray smiled. “It’s the room, you know? That has to be really watchamacallit—doused with sanitizer?”

Dief growled and Ray held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. But if that’s what it takes to get Frase on the mend again then that’s what we’ll do, ‘kay? Okay, I gotta run. He’s usually awake by now and I don’t want him to be alone… he’s overthinking things as it is.”

Dief yipped in agreement.

Ray had just pulled the door closed behind him when he froze. He had just had a conversation with a wolf. A deaf half-wolf, which somehow didn’t help his case. Ray shook his head as if he was trying to dislodge water from his ear. This did so not bode well for his sanity. Fraser must’ve been rubbing off on him and since he wasn’t here to talk to Dief it was Ray’s turn now. No one, Ray reminded himself, had to know about this besides him and Dief. He shrugged a little and bounded down the stairs.

By the time Ray arrived at the hospital Fraser was indeed already awake.

“Hey there, did Frannie stay with you?” Ray asked with a look around.

“Yes, she had to drive her niece to her piano lesson about half an hour ago. I assure you, Ray, I’m fine on my own.”

“It—it’s not that. I just… I don’t want you to be bored,” Ray seemed to be fascinated by the non-existent pattern of Fraser’s white bed sheet.

“And I appreciate it,” Fraser said with a little sigh.

Ray had to smile. Yes, setting Frannie on Fraser might not be fair play, he had to admit that. It couldn’t be all that entertaining to listen to her chatter for hours on end. But it was better than Fraser’s own cinema of the mind… well, Fraser probably didn’t have a movie going, it was probably someone reading aloud or something. Some kind of story with lots of doom and despair in it, no doubt. No, Frannie’s bubble-gum and shopping talk was way safer for Fraser to listen to.

A nurse bustled in and Fraser’s eyes strayed to the stand next to his bed with a frown. Ray looked at the blanket that was draped over it and then back to Fraser, about to ask what was wrong, when Fraser smiled apologetically.

“Ah, Ray, would you mind doing me a favor?”

Ray had been prepared for something else. “Uh, sure, what do you need?”

“Could you get me a cup of tea from the cafeteria downstairs? They have a rather nice blend of Earl Grey and I don’t want to call the head nurse yet again. I’m sure she has other patients to see to.”

“Yeah, no skin off my nose. Be right back,” Ray answered with a confused little frown and a glance at the nurse.

* * *

As soon as Ray had vanished, Fraser closed his eyes and relaxed back into his pillow with a small sigh.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, my dear,” the elderly nurse said with a smile as she unveiled the bag for Fraser’s catheter underneath the blanket.

A blush rose to Fraser’s cheeks. “It’s, ah, it’s not embarrassment,” Fraser explained. But how was he to tell her that he didn’t want Ray to see him helpless like this? He couldn’t even move – let alone walk by himself – he didn’t want Ray to see that he couldn’t even relieve his bladder himself anymore. Fraser didn’t want to see the pity in Ray’s eyes… or worse, to find that Ray thought of him as a burden, a responsibility.

The nurse just smiled knowingly and had just left the room when Ray returned with a fresh cup of tea for Fraser.

Ray handed him the cup and their fingers brushed. “Is everything all right?” Ray asked quietly, but with only barely concealed concern.

“Of course, Ray,” Fraser replied, self-assured.

Ray sat down heavily next to Fraser on the bed. “You’d tell me if something was wrong… right?” Ray stared at his graceful, gentle fingers that were rubbing over his jeans-covered thigh.

Fraser put his hand firmly on top of Ray’s. “I don’t know anything that you don’t, I promise.”

Ray looked up at him and smiled softly. “How did the test this morning go?”

Fraser’s look became more solemn. “It was—”

“And don’t say ‘good,’ okay?” Ray pleaded.

Fraser bit his lip and placed the tea cup with overmuch concentration on the table next to his bed. “The reception in my right leg is less pronounced than in my left. However, they were able to monitor a response to electric stimuli in both legs, and I could discern differences in temperature in most of my left leg.”

Ray beamed at him. “That’s great!” Ray squeezed his hand and leaned in for a soft kiss. Fraser lost himself in the gentle slide of Ray’s lips. It was such a simple thing and he missed the simplicity of their shared intimacy. He couldn’t even lean into the kiss, the only thing he could do was pull Ray close and that he did.

He missed feeling Ray underneath his hands, the fine nuances in heat, the prickle of stubble on his jaw, the soft inside of his wrists… He could still touch him, of course, but it was muted. Like hands that were forever reaching out of a dream.

He didn’t feel Ray’s wiry body pressed against his hip– not the way it should feel. Fraser couldn’t wrap his legs around Ray to pull him close—he couldn’t even move. Dancing. Suddenly, Fraser thought of dancing with Ray. Of the way Ray had guided him smoothly over the floor with no other light than the soft, red glow from the chili-pepper-lights… and the soft music that had filled the nightly apartment… and Ray humming softly under his breath.

Fraser’s fingers tightened their hold, burying themselves in Ray’s hair, gripping the material of his shirt tighter as he realized that he might never dance with Ray again. Oh Ray…

Because what he hadn’t told Ray… what he couldn’t have told him… was that the tests had fallen below all expectations. The doctor had been sympathetic, but he had let Fraser know nonetheless that they had expected much more responsiveness of his nerves after the surgery.

There was still the possibility of making a full recovery, but they had cautioned him not to be too optimistic. How could he tell Ray that? When it was so painfully obvious how important it was for Ray that he got better? When Ray had so much faith in him?

Ray’s breathing had speeded up and Fraser felt his own heart soar to match it. Ray bit at Fraser’s bottom lip, a sharp, welcome sting.

Ray would never accept it if Fraser told him… and… if he was really honest with himself he didn’t want Ray to stop believing in him. He needed Ray’s faith, his unshaken trust that it would be okay. Fraser didn’t want to see the doubt in Ray’s eyes or hear the well-meant platitude that it would be all right when Fraser could feel that Ray was just humoring him.

“Ben…” Ray gasped and pressed his brow against Fraser’s, trying to catch his breath. Slowly, Ray opened his eyes and looked at him. Ray’s eyes were so full of emotion and Fraser felt the familiar tug inside of him, of wanting to drag Ray off to the bedroom like he would have done had this been normal.

But it wasn’t normal. He was sitting in a hospital bed with no feeling in his legs to carry him home, no strength in his arms to pull Ray along, and no movement below the waist that would explain what he wanted to drag Ray into a private corner for anyway.

Softly, Fraser’s thumb traced the corner of Ray’s lips.

“I’m glad you’re here.” His voice was hoarse.

Ray grinned and leaned in to press another kiss to Fraser’s lips. “Sure, where else would I be?”

* * *

Sleep eluded Fraser. With a groan, he tried to relax. Finding a spot to sleep in when you couldn’t move anything below the waist was torture.

His back ached… Fraser sighed and tried to turn a little to the left. If anything the dull ache got more pronounced. Defeated, Fraser dropped back into his original position.

The backache grew worse over the course of the day. Fraser thought he should’ve expected that, now that they had cut down on the painkillers. The discomfort was manageable– and Fraser preferred the less drugged state of mind.

And there were moments when Fraser hardly noticed the pain. Only when he was alone and had nothing else to concentrate on but his own body did the pain really become hard to ignore. He reprimanded himself; he had survived much worse. Whining did not become a Mountie.

With a little pang of regret did Fraser remember his dad’s visit to the hospital the last time he had needed surgery. At that time Fraser had hardly appreciated the visits and his father’s well-meant lecture to stop feeling sorry for himself. But Fraser wasn’t moping this time.

They had prodded his legs again this morning and his right leg had unexpectedly been more responsive than the day before. The nurse had congratulated him and he hadn’t been able to help the small surge of happiness at the tingling feeling in his leg.

In the evening, the nurse even came and asked him if he had any pain. It only took him a second to decide that the pain wasn’t that unbearable that he wanted to go back on pain medication. So he smiled at her and told her that he was coping all right.

The night was really less then comfortable, Fraser had to admit. At one point he had been just about to press the button to ask for some painkillers anyway. But the pain passed with a little patience and Fraser was able to relax again. But his night was restless and he woke almost as tired as he had gone to sleep.

When he woke up his side hurt as well. He couldn’t decide whether the pain was simply radiating from his back to his flank or if it simply hurt there as well. Fraser leaned to the left as much as his movement allowed him and smothered his groan in the pillow. He pushed the blanket a little way down. This was stifling. The pain was making him feel dizzy, at least Fraser thought that it was more difficult to concentrate on his surroundings than it should be.

It didn’t take too long, though, before he fell again into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

“Fraser, did you know that you can borrow as many books as you want from the library? There’s, like, no limit or anything. Weird.”

Fraser had asked Ray – well, more that Ray had demanded to be helpful – to get a few books for him from the library. Apparently, Ray had never crossed its threshold before.

Ray was already in the tale of his quest and how he had managed to track each of Fraser’s books – despite the villainous librarian who had apparently tried her utmost to prevent Ray from achieving his goal – when he suddenly stopped mid-talk.

“Do you feel hot, Ben?” Ray asked, puzzled.

“A little,” Fraser admitted a little sluggishly. Ray frowned at the beads of perspiration that shone on Fraser’s brow.

Fraser looked about ready to fall asleep again and Ray really didn’t want to keep him awake if he didn’t have to. The doctors had all told him that sleep was healthy and that it was a good sign if Fraser could sleep peacefully.

But this looked like Fraser was suffering from a fever. Gently, Ray reached out to feel Fraser’s sweaty forehead.

Sizzling was the word Ray would’ve used. He had already opened his mouth to call for someone—anyone—somebody with a medical degree had to do something about this! But then the door opened and a nurse appeared as if Ray’s panic had summoned her.

Fraser’s eyelids were drooping and the nurse smiled.

“I’m just here to change the bag of the catheter,” she explained to Ray who looked confused for a moment. Bag? What was she talking about? Didn’t she want to do something about his fever?

She was already flinging the blanket away from the stand next to the bed when Fraser stirred. “It’s really not—” he started to say, but he didn’t get any further. Because the moment the nurse saw the bag on the hook she wheeled to look at Fraser.

“Mr. Fraser, have you been experiencing backache lately?” She asked him with a serious expression.

Ray felt left out of the loop. Fraser had had spinal surgery, surely it was normal for him to have backache, what kind of question was that? And why was she glancing to the bag hanging on the stand all the time? The bag that had kind of red flecks floating inside of it… Ray frowned. Come to think of it, the whole thing looked like it was filled with liquid rust. He was no doctor, but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t supposed to look like that.

Wasn’t this the thing that Fraser needed to pee? Because of something or other with the kidneys? Ray hadn’t given it much thought and it seemed to make Fraser uncomfortable to draw attention to it. But if this was the bag then the red stuff in it was… Ray paled as his head swiveled around to look at Fraser.

“A little since yesterday,” Fraser murmured. “But I expect this comes from the reduction of painkillers in my medication,” he went on.

The nurse looked sternly at her patient. “Mr. Fraser, you should’ve let us know immediately if you were experiencing any discomfort.”

“I assure you I can deal with the pain. Spinal surgery needs time to heal, I am well aware of that.”

“The pain was in all probability caused by your kidneys. I’m afraid you seem to have contracted a kidney infection. If you had told us about your pain immediately we could have acted much sooner. There are traces of blood in your urine. I’ll send for the doctor this instant,” the nurse explained.

She didn’t seem very impressed with Fraser’s I’m-a-Mountie-I-can-deal-with-pain-attitude and Ray was rather glad that she seemed to be cross with Fraser as well because he sure felt like popping him one.

But Ray was too scared to work up any real anger. Fraser looked surprised and maybe also as if he regretted not having said anything and that was good enough for Ray at the moment. He was sure that Fraser knew what that meant, a kidney infection, but he was afraid of asking him in case it was something really bad.

Ray suffered from a strong case of déjà vu when the testing began anew. Blood samples, urine samples, everything had to be tested for one thing or other and when they got their results back everyone kept talking about antibiotics and finding one that fit.

Fraser seemed to be in a lot of pain and his skin was blazing and Ray wasn’t sure what was scarier, watching Fraser like that or not really knowing what was happening.

They said the problem was finding an antibiotic that would work because Fraser had apparently already been on broad spectrum antibiotics and whatever this new thing was must’ve been some kind of supervillain under the bugs or something because it shouldn’t even have been able to develop or form or whatever it was these bugs did.

They had also said that this was fairly common, but somehow Ray didn’t think that made it sound any better.

At least the pained grimace left Fraser’s face once they put him on painkillers again. Ray couldn’t really make much sense of what Fraser talked, but he assumed that it was probably better that Fraser wasn’t all there for this.

The only thing Ray knew was that he didn’t like the way Fraser was looking. He seemed so frail… and Ray felt as if he could see Fraser losing weight. He had no idea if that was from all the water they kept forcing down his throat or if it was the fever or the pain or if Fraser’s body was simply not capable of handling anything else, but Ray was really getting antsy that they wouldn’t find a correct antibiotic in time before there was nothing left of him. How could anybody waste away over the course of a few days? Ray simply couldn’t understand how this could’ve happened so quickly. Fraser had seemed on his way to getting better and now—all of a sudden—this… shit, Ray knew that the kidneys were vitally important, but did he have to see the living proof of it every time he looked at Fraser?

He couldn’t even do anything. Just sit at the bed and hold Ben’s hand. And most of the time Fraser wasn’t even awake. The kidney thing—infection—or whatever this was seemed to sap all his strength and Ray had the desperate urge to create a dam with his hands to stop the power from leaking out of Ben, but instead he was damned to sit impotently next to Ben and watch him suffer.

Fighting this took everything Fraser had for he talked less and that scared Ray even more than the physical stuff. Even when they found the right antibiotic—god, Ray could’ve wept he was so relieved. The stress seemed to lack an outlet or something and Ray thought about asking one of the nurses if there was a heavy bag to hit somewhere around the hospital. He just feared that once in front of one he wouldn’t have any energy left to hit it.

The guys in the white frocks all congratulated themselves and the nurses went back to relaxed mode, but Ray couldn’t see what the relief was all about. Had any of them even looked at Ben in the last few days?

There was no strength left, no fight, no—no iron-will, no nothing. Ben was only lying around and what progress he had seemed to make looked like it had vanished in a trickle of blood through a catheter.

Ray sighed and tried to rein his temper back in. It was their job; the nurses and the doctors couldn’t spend their time worrying about every one of their patients, Ray got that. They couldn’t afford it and according to their dictionary, Fraser had come through it all right. He wasn’t dead after all.

Ray moved a hand through his hair distractedly. He just wished that he could share their relief… but looking at Fraser Ray didn’t feel all that optimistic.

Ray wanted to help so desperately, but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that.

* * *

…

“night’s only temporary,” Fraser murmured as if explaining something to some invisible visitor. Hoarsely, laughter chased his words through the quiet of the room. His laughter subsided as quickly as it had come. Fraser winced and turned his head to the side.

It was sunny outside. He could hear the low murmur of other people. There was life behind every window.

But he didn’t want to watch what was going on behind any of the windows. He had learned his lesson, hadn’t he? Did he ever learn? For a moment, a frown appeared on his face before his face smoothed back into a blank surface. Disinterestedly, Fraser watched as, next to the bed, the morphine dripped into his blood.

…

Fraser heard the door open.  He closed his eyes.

* * *

Ray entered Fraser’s room, but Fraser was asleep again. He did that a lot lately. Ray supposed it was the best Fraser could do, get some rest and give his body a chance to recover, but Ray would’ve felt better to see the expression on Fraser’s face, maybe talk a little.

But that was selfish; Ray cringed like someone getting caught. He should be glad that Fraser was resting. He probably couldn’t sleep through the night yet if the dark shadows under his eyes were anything to go by. Ray hurt with tenderness. He felt it bleeding out of him, reaching out for Ben, but he didn’t want to wake him.

He settled into the chair next to Fraser’s bed and fell back into his usual routine. Ray had never been good with silences and this was no exception. So he filled the sleeping Fraser in, telling him what was going on at the 2-7 and with everyone else outside this hellish place.

Ray was trying to save his vacation days for the time when Fraser would be able to go home so that he could help him. He hadn’t told Fraser yet; he wanted it to be a surprise. So that when the doc finally told Fraser he could go home if he had someone to take care of him Ray could grin and say “sure, he has” and then Ben would be all surprised, and hopefully happy, maybe even smiling, so Ray was maybe saving that moment a little.

And with Fraser sleeping most of the time anyway Ray thought work might provide a welcome distraction.

…yeah, okay, so he wasn’t working a regular shift. So he often worked nights to be there for Fraser first thing in the morning and then went back to work the following night with hardly more than a nap in between… so what? He could deal. And it wasn’t forever. Just for a few days. The doctors had said that Fraser would recover from the kidney infection. Anytime now Fraser would be able to resume working on getting his legs back in working order. And then he would be able to go home with Ray.

Ray rubbed over his eyes and was surprised at the scratch of stubble as he moved his palm over his cheek. When had been the last time he had been home for a decent shave? Ray frowned. That day when… well, that one… recently. Ray let his head fall back against the head rest. He was so tired. But he couldn’t leave Fraser alone. There was something in Fraser’s eyes that hadn’t been there before and it gave Ray the same feeling he’d had when he fell down that crevasse.  He was just worried that something would happen when he wasn’t there and then Fraser would feel alone.

Fraser hadn’t wanted any visitors. He’d said that he was asleep for most of their visits anyway and that he’d prefer it if they came once he felt a little less under the weather. Ray could understand that. It probably wasn’t fair to get visited by your superior or your colleagues when your ass was hanging out of a hospital gown and you weren’t even awake enough to care.

Fraser had always been about proper appearances and he must’ve been finding this very undignified. Of course, he hadn’t said as much. Fraser hardly complained, but then again, his silences said more than enough sometimes.

But Ray didn’t want to leave Fraser alone either… so here he was. Tired after another long shift and too worried to go home and sleep. Sometimes he slept in the chair next to Fraser’s bed—but he tried not to. He didn’t want Fraser to worry about him in return. Because then Fraser would lecture him on taking proper care of himself and then Ray would probably lose it and snap at him.

Ray probably needn’t worry so much; the times Fraser had been awake he had appeared rather normal. Sure, he had talked a little less, but Ray figured everyone had the right to be a little subdued after such an ordeal.

There had to be something he could do to cheer him up. And then it hit Ray. Time to reunite the family.

He was prepared to kick some heads in order to get Dief allowed inside of the hospital. Turned out, one of the nurses from way back remembered him and helped Ray to sneak him in. By the time they reached Fraser’s room Dief had made at least 5 new friends amongst the nurses. Ray smirked. That wolf really knew how to work the charm.

And there it was—even if it lasted for just a moment—a smile on Fraser’s lips at the sight of Dief. Ray left them alone to do some catching up or whatever they did and got himself a coffee.

When he came back, Fraser even had the book by Hammett open on his lap. Ray hadn’t known how heavy his heart had been until he felt the weight slide aside.

“Hey, you’re still awake. Did they stop the time while I was downstairs?” Ray tried to joke.

“I’m not tired,” Fraser replied simply.

“That’s—that’s good, right?” Ray smiled hesitantly. Fraser had had the same impersonal tone of voice yesterday and Ray had thought he had imagined it, but here it was again and Ray didn’t know if it was something he’d done or if Fraser was just pissed because he was stuck inside.

“What difference does it make?” Fraser asked wearily after a moment’s pause.

Ray frowned. “What difference? C’mon, that’s gotta be a good sign, right? It probably means you’re getting your strength back.”

“Yes, probably,” Fraser said with the memory of a smile.

Ray took Fraser’s hand into his own.

“You can feel that, right?”

“Yes,” Fraser agreed slowly.

“And this—what about this?” Ray inquired, stroking his hand up and down Fraser’s shin.

“I can feel that as well,” Fraser intoned dutifully.

“See? Very soon you can come home with me, okay? No one wants that more than I do, trust me on this. Sleeping is not the same without you next to me. I’ll even let you hog the bed,” Ray tried to grin; they both knew Fraser never hogged the bed. If at all, Ray tried to pretend he was twice his size. But since Fraser usually slept wrapped around him that worked out rather well.

“That’s… very funny, Ray.”

“That’s me, a comedian in my spare time—oh wait, that’s the Duck Boys, sorry. “

It might have been a smile on Fraser’s face. Might.

Talking to Fraser these days felt the way Ray usually felt when he was searching for the right word. Only he wasn’t even looking for a word and yet he still felt as if he hadn’t found the one he should’ve used.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The moon was just visible behind the branches of the old tree right next to the building opposite. The moon was almost full, maybe in a day it would be.

…

Fraser kept staring outside of his window. It was better than watching his legs not moving. Even when he stared at them intently and willed them to do what his brain ordered them to he didn’t get any reaction.

…

Of course not, he chided himself. It was as if he had lost the use of his legs all over again—which was actually exactly what had happened. He would have to learn it all over again… that was if he could…

…

All the windows opposite were dark. Small favors… he supposed he should be thankful.

For a moment, he thought he saw a woman with dark, curly hair move in one of the darkened rooms.

…

Fraser closed his eyes.

* * *

Ray stood in their kitchen with a puzzled frown on his face. He let one of the leaves glide softly through his fingers. Were those the right ones? They were green all right… Ray rubbed the back of his neck.

But these here were green as well. He sighed… god, this was frustrating. He’d thought this would be such a simple thing.

He let his fingers wander again over the assortment of plants in their little pots. Dammit! This was Fraser’s area—he was the one growing the infuriating stuff in the first place!

How was he supposed to differ?—different?—distinguish between herbs and tea leaves?

All he wanted was to bring Fraser a cup of his own, home-grown spearmint tea. Because Fraser had looked so morose yesterday when he stared into his tea cup from the cafeteria. So Ray thought he would be nice and bring him some from home… he’d had no idea that he would need a college diploma to do that.

He’d never been good at biology… well, not at the parts that had nothing to do with anatomy. _That_ Ray had down pat. He allowed himself a dirty grin. Back to the task at hand.

He considered using a nursery rhyme to pick which of the leaves he should take, but then he found that he couldn’t remember any. Think, Kowalski, you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to find peppermint. Smell. He could do that.

Didn’t keep him from feeling stupid, standing in the kitchen, sniffing at plants, but it was the best he could come up with. The first one smelled like pizza so that was probably some kind of herb and not something Fraser would enjoy drinking.

After the third try, Ray found something that smelled right. It even looked like what he thought he remembered spearmint was supposed to look like. How many of those leaves did you need?

Ray figured you couldn’t die of an overdose so he plucked a handful. He stopped to stare at the innocent leaves, lying scattered over the kitchen counter. Now what?

Ray looked at the travel mug and back to the leaves. Somehow he didn’t think that just adding water would do the trick. He couldn’t remember Fraser ever plucking leaves out of his tea when he drank some.

Right! Fraser had this—this thing—this egg… Ray looked around the kitchen. Fraser and his freakish organization. Fraser and his freakishly brilliant organization, Ray crowed as he hit upon the correct drawer on a hunch on the first try. Maybe Fraser had considered Ray’s hunches when he had straightened out the kitchen.

So, Ray supposed the leaves were meant to go in there. And now he could boil the water. The next question was again how long the stuff was supposed to stay in there. Ray went back to his poison-theory and concluded that too long probably wouldn’t kill anyone. Maybe a tea took as long as it took his coffee machine to produce a cup. That would make sense.

Ray looked at his handiwork with something akin to pride. He had made tea! From leaves, not the stuff you could by in a supermarket. And here Mrs. Carlisle, Stella’s mother, had always said that Ray would never manage to produce anything in the kitchen—anything non-lethal, that is. Ray eyed the mug warily. Fraser wouldn’t keep anything poisonous in the kitchen, right? Just in case Ray had gotten something mixed up.

Fraser appeared to be engrossed in Ray’s detective story when Ray came in.

“Hey there, Ben,” Ray said with a smile. It felt good to see him awake.

Ben looked tired, Ray realized with a sudden drop of his heart.

“Hello, Ray,” Fraser acknowledged, but he didn’t really meet Ray’s eyes.

“Is it good?” Ray asked and for a second, Fraser didn’t seem to get what Ray was talking about. Ray nodded at the book Fraser was holding.

“Oh,” Fraser was momentarily surprised. “Yes, very.”

Ray grinned. Hammett was one hell of a writer: if Fraser got bored by him then nothing would help.

“What’s your favorite part so far?” Ray asked, sitting down in his customary spot next to Fraser’s bed, the travel mug safely hidden underneath his jacket.

Fraser contemplated the book cover and finally rubbed his eyebrow. “The, ah, the Flitcraft episode,” Fraser concluded after a moment of thought.

Ray grinned. Figured he’d love this bit—even people who’d never read the story knew about that episode. Ray had always thought it didn’t really belong in a traditional gumshoe story. Why did Spade tell the story of the man, Flitcraft, who just had a close shave with death one day and then decided to start a new life, just like that. Be somebody else, leave behind his family, everything.

Of course, Fraser had to go for the only thing with depth in a detective story.

“Should’ve figured,” Ray grinned. “Hey, I, uh, brought you something.” Hesitantly, Ray got the mug out from under his jacket. He held it out with a shy smile.

Fraser looked at the mug and, finally, reached out to take it. He raised it to his nose and took a careful whiff of the contents. A small smile appeared on his face. “Mentha spicata,” Fraser said quietly.

He took a sip and coughed a little.

“Too strong?” Ray looked crestfallen.

“No—no, not at all,” Fraser assured him, but his eyes crinkled a little.

“I’ll get it right next time,” Ray assured him.

“It’s really fine, Ray,” Fraser said over the rim of the mug and Ray relaxed a little. This moment when all tension and… sadness… was it sadness? had drained from Fraser’s face, that had been worth going through all the trouble.

Just… these days the smile on Fraser’s face never seemed to last long… if it was there at all.

* * *

“Ben.” A voice so soft, so gentle. A voice to recite poetry. A voice like snow.

“Ben, wake up.”

Fraser’s eyes flew open. There she was, standing right next to his bed. Just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her.

“Victoria,” he wasn’t sure if he really said her name out loud or if he only thought he had.

She smiled and sat down in the seat Ray usually occupied. It all looked out of place.

“You should’ve come with me,” she said with a knowing look at his legs.

“I’ve often thought about it,” he answered truthfully.

Victoria looked around the room, maybe reading something in its walls. “You knew I had to do the things I did. I couldn’t give you a choice—and even then… even then,” she looked at him with so much hurt in her eyes.

Again, he felt like the one that had betrayed her.

“I left you no choice. I destroyed everything you had… why didn’t you choose me, Ben? Why?”

Fraser felt again the wind on that train platform. He saw her smile as she said ‘come with me.’

“I was going to.” His lips were dry.

“Too late,” she whirled around and her dark eyes gleamed.

“I know…” he would gladly give her anything she wanted from him.

“You won’t get so lucky this time, Ben,” she said softly. “But you know that, right?” She patted his leg with her cold hands. Her hands had always been cold. Fraser had held them between his own so often, trying to warm them up.

Fraser looked at his legs. He had feared he might not.

“Consider it a form of punishment,” she smiled gently. “None of this would’ve happened if you had come with me.”

Atonement… he hadn’t thought of it that way. Yes, maybe he deserved it. For the years he had taken from her.

“They removed the bullet,” he explained, unnecessarily perhaps.

“Does that mean you will forget me?” she asked. And her face was so beautiful. Looking at her now he’d swear he could never hurt her… but they both knew it wasn’t true.

“I—”

“You won’t be able to,” her face changed. He remembered the last time she had looked at him like that. He was staring through a grimy glass window in a seedy strip club. And she was perched on a high stool right in the middle of the room. The look on her face had been so cold… so cold… “Because you will think of me, Ben. Every time you push that wheelchair. Every time you realize that you can’t walk anymore. Every time your boyfriend looks at you.” Her smile was vicious, dark, and hurtful, but it didn’t diminish her beauty.

“Victoria—” he had no idea what he was going to say, but she didn’t give him an opportunity to find the right words.

She pulled out a gun, small and sleek. “Maybe I’d better make sure—give you another bullet wound to remember me by.”

The gun zeroed in on his right kneecap. And then she fired.

Fraser woke up with a start. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his right leg was shaking spasmodically. He couldn’t stop it. He was gasping for breath, looking around wildly and disoriented. Fraser reached out with a trembling hand to stop his leg, but he couldn’t reach far enough.

He tried to calm his heart rate when warm fur brushed his arm.

“Dief,” he gasped with relief.

The half-wolf whined softly and moved up, placing his front paws on the side of Fraser’s bed to lick at his cheek.

A dream… it had been a dream… she hadn’t been here. Of course not, no one had ever seen her again since she had vanished on that train.

Absent-mindedly, Fraser rubbed two fingers over his lips. Victoria…

He hadn’t dreamed about her in a long time.

After he had calmed down again, he lay staring at the ceiling. What if she had been right? Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe he deserved it. Did it matter? He couldn’t use his legs, what difference did it make if it was just or not?

He didn’t have any strength left… he probably wouldn’t get better. Accepting it might be easier in the long run than fighting a losing battle. Ever since he had recovered from the kidney infection his legs had deteriorated to a point that closely resembled the days immediately after the surgery. It hadn’t gotten better… it never would…

* * *

Ray was just on his way to the hospital when he ran into the mailman. There usually wasn’t much mail for Ray and Fraser; Ray never wrote letters in the first place and Fraser didn’t have much family left with whom to exchange letters in Canada.

A letter came from Maggie now and again—even Buck Frobisher had written a letter when Fraser had gone into the hospital. This time, it was a postcard.

Ray looked at the picture. It showed a beach in… did it say Miami? Ray flipped the postcard around. It was addressed to ‘Benny’ and ‘Stanley can read if he wants.’ Ray snorted, why should Vecchio write a postcard from his honeymoon?

The message consisted of all of 5 lines, but it was enough for Ray to have a hysterical laughing fit. Wheezing, he leaned against the side of the GTO. Sure, Vecchio was going to move to Florida. With Stella. To open a bowling alley—Ray was pretty sure he had read that wrong. No way could it have said bowling alley. But try as he might Ray couldn’t come up with two other words that could go in that place.

It said that they were trying to get things straightened out and that they would come back once everything was settled. Ray tried to get his laughter to subside. Man, that wasn’t an easy thing to do. God… when was the last time he had laughed? Judging from the way his muscles hurt a long time ago.

He hoped Fraser would find it funny as well; he could really use some laughter.

That thought sobered him up quicker than he had thought possible. Fraser was really worrying him. For almost two days now, Fraser had hardly talked at all and what little he had said had sounded dead to the world.

A haunted look flitted over Ray’s face at the memory. And the circles under Fraser’s eyes were so dark by now that Ray couldn’t even remember how he normally looked. He was also losing weight… the tray with his food always looked empty enough, but at the rate he was going it wouldn’t be more than a few weeks before Fraser was a skinny guy like Ray.

Fraser had always filled out his clothes nicely. Not too much muscle, but not skinny either.

Part of it was the fault of the damn infection and of course Fraser had lost a lot of weight in the beginning, when he couldn’t keep the food down, but he seemed to be getting thinner by the day now.

Those dark eyes… when Fraser slept it looked like two dark holes in a starkly pale face. As if someone had punched him in the eye sockets.

Ray had tried everything he could think of. He had entertained Fraser with stories, he had tried to be witty—he had even asked for a Caribou anecdote—nothing. Just this politely interested look if at all.

Okay, maybe Ray wasn’t on top of his game either and maybe a bit of his worries could be attributed to lack of sleep or a short attention span or just normal paranoia. But this definitely wasn’t all in his head.

“Frase?” Ray asked when he entered Fraser’s room. Fraser looked up from his spot on the bed.  “I got some news, wait until you see this,” Ray forced as much cheerfulness in his voice as he could.

He handed Fraser the postcard. Watching like a hawk, Ray followed the expression on Fraser’s face. There wasn’t much to watch, however.

“That’s nice. I’m happy for them,” Fraser said and handed the postcard back to Ray.

Ray felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. If the idea of Stella working in a bowling alley didn’t crack Fraser up, Ray didn’t know what would.

Ray tried to cover up his own insecurities by filling Fraser in on the mundane, everyday details about Frannie and the rest. He spent an unhealthy amount of time describing what Turnbull probably considered dating and the way Frannie suddenly behaved like a blushing virgin—which according to Ray was quite the surprise after almost three years of her trying to get Fraser’s attention by wearing as little as could still be called clothing.

But even Ray with his mouth the size of a small state ran out of stories to tell sometime. Especially when the audience was less than impressed by what he had to tell.

“So…” Ray floundered. “What about you? Any news?”

Fraser’s mouth thinned to a tight line. “No, no news.”

Ray nodded along as if it was no big deal. “How did the tests go?”

“How do you think they went? I can’t walk, Ray. Could you please stop asking me that,” Fraser snapped; he sounded as tired as he looked.

“I—I wasn’t,” Ray stammered. “I know you can’t, I was just… was just…” He was surprised by Fraser’s vehemence and he was too tired himself to be prepared for battle. It hurt… he hadn’t meant to make Fraser feel bad about the lack of progress… he just…

Ray wrung his hands a little helplessly.

“I think I want to sleep now if you don’t mind. I’m tired,” Fraser said with a furrow between his eyebrows, the eyes fixed anywhere but on Ray.

“Sure, of course…” Ray mumbled, almost tripping over his feet when he tried to get out of the chair.

He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t take it personally… Ray reminded himself.

* * *

…

…

Withered leaves on the trees outside… steel-gray sky visible just over the roof of the other building… it was the same view over and over again.

…

He supposed it was calming… in a way… this was going to be his future, sitting in a wheelchair, staring out of the window…

…

Watching the seasons change… the leaves drop off the trees… the dead-looking branches heavy under the first fall of snow…

…

He didn’t mind… he didn’t have the energy to care… he just wished people would leave him be…

…

Stop asking questions. Ray should just give up… why couldn’t Ray accept that he wouldn’t recover? Surely Ray could stop putting on a brave front…

…

Bravery…. yes, the knight on his noble quest… so full of purpose and good intentions…

This time, however, it was a fool’s errand…

…

* * *

One of the nurses who knew Ray from his regular visits found him in the hallway looking a little shaken.“Are you all right?” She asked kindly.

Ray’s head flew up; he had been lost in thought. The nurse was rather young, a lot younger than Ray was at least. Her blond hair glowed like a halo around her head and for a moment Ray smiled at himself because once upon a time he would’ve fallen over his own feet trying to impress her.

Instead he just shrugged and tried to release the tension in his chest with a deep breath.

“Yeah, it’s just—it’s not easy… he’s…” Ray rummaged around his brain for the right word. He didn’t want to say that Fraser was difficult or that his cold attitude hurt or any of that stuff because that wouldn’t be fair to Fraser.

She smiled gently. “It happens to most people after such a traumatic experience. It always hits hardest with the strong ones, the fighters, because they aren’t used to needing help.”

Ray stared at her in surprise. How had she known—

Her smile turned into a little grin at Ray’s flummoxed expression. “I’m a nurse; as I said, the behavior of your friend is fairly normal under the circumstances. It’s always hard to deal with depression; I’m sure it must come as quite a shock to you to see him like that.”

She continued talking, but Ray’s brain was still stuck in the middle of her speech. That had always happened to him in school, too. The teacher would say something, he’d stop and think about it, and by the time he had figured it out for himself the teacher was already finished with the next topic and Ray didn’t have a single note for any of it.

Depression… Ben was depressed? Huh… it made so much sense Ray felt ten times of stupid for not thinking of it himself. He’d just… well, he’d thought depressed people would be crying a lot, mourning the starving children in Africa, or random homeless people, and that they were constantly sad, reciting even more depressing poetry or something.

“Sir? Do you need to sit down?” the nurse inquired with a worried frown.

Ray shook his head and tried to smile. “No, uh, sorry, I just… had to think about what you said. Thanks.”

She nodded understandingly and went on her way.

Ray debated what he should do now. Let Fraser sleep a little, maybe get some rest, and come back later? No. Ray shook his head. If what the nurse had said was true, and she got paid for knowing stuff like that, then Fraser’s mood wouldn’t improve by sleeping… maybe he wasn’t even sleepy, just tired.

Decisively, Ray turned around and walked back along the corridor until he found himself in front of Fraser’s door again.

Ray swallowed nervously and knocked twice on the door. When no reply came, Ray entered the room anyway.

Fraser was apparently sleeping again. Carefully, Ray sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. Going on his gut, he reached out to take Ben’s hand in his own.

There was a twitch visible on Fraser’s face as Ray’s hand touched his and Ray suddenly got it.

“You’re not really sleeping, are you?” he said quietly.

Unwillingly, Fraser opened his eyes. “No…” he admitted, his gaze going out the window.

Ray wove their fingers together. “It’s okay,” Ray brushed a kiss to Ben’s temple.

“It’s not,” Fraser contradicted him. Ray was about to go back to his pep-talk speech, but closed his mouth again. He’d done nothing but encourage Fraser that it would be all right… thing was, if it hadn’t helped the last few days what good would it do now?

Maybe there wasn’t anything he could say?

He bent down and pulled Ben into a clumsy hug. It was difficult because Fraser was lying down and not sitting up and because he apparently didn’t know what to do with Ray’s sudden embrace.

But Ray simply tightened his grip and held on. It was almost like sliding into bed with Ben, the only things missing were his feet. He had no idea how long they lay together like that, but at some point Ben’s breathing evened out and his face relaxed into the soft features of sleep.

Ray kept holding Ben for a while longer. He was surprised to find out how much he needed this simple comfort himself. It had been such a long time since they had touched in any meaningful way… or at all… Ben still smelled like himself, beneath all the hospital it was still him.

Maybe Ray could close his eyes, too, just for a minute…

* * *

Sunday morning…

…

Surprise broke through Fraser’s stupor… it had to be Sunday morning because he could feel the sun on his face so it was already late in the morning… and Ray was snuggled close against his side… his hair tickling Fraser’s throat…

A smile was just beginning to spread over his lips when he opened his eyes. And froze. This wasn’t a Sunday morning after all. It was an afternoon at the hospital. Despair came crashing over him and robbed him of his breath for a moment.

…

He couldn’t walk. He would be stuck inside of here forever.

…

The impulse to flee was so strong—abruptly washed away by an urge to laugh because… how could you flee with no legs to carry you? How could you get away from a body that had let you down?

…

You couldn’t…

…

Stuck forever…

With nothing but his thoughts to keep him company…

…

Company… such a simple word…

… he remembered… it derived from the Latin expression to share your bread with someone… it first appeared in the French military…

…

… brothers in arms…

…

He looked at Ray. He was lying half on the bed, supported by his feet on the ground, with one arm wrapped tightly across Fraser’s chest. Fraser saw the glint of the metal bracelet as it caught the afternoon sun.

Gently, Fraser reached out to feel the slide of the metal beads underneath his fingertips.

The metal was warm. Not as warm as Ray’s skin underneath, though. He hooked his fingers around the string of beads, feeling the solid metal between his fingers.

… a feeling like calm…

How many nights had he gripped Ray’s wrist, crushing the metal between Ray’s skin and his own?

…

Images, long forgotten.

….

How many nights had he kissed the beads and the soft skin underneath until Ray had gasped his name?

….

He could never go back…

But he couldn’t let go of the bracelet… and he couldn’t stop watching Ray’s face...

…

* * *

Ray still had an hour before he had to start his shift. Welsh was getting worried, but Ray had blown him off. Welsh had probably seen too many cops whose work was the only thing that kept them going to really stop him, but Ray figured he’d better shape up.

He stood in front of his bathroom mirror about to finish his shave. He smoothed the skin of his cheek, stretching it so that he wouldn’t cut himself. His bracelet caught his eye in the mirror and he smiled.

When he had woken up Ben’s fingers had been entangled with the bracelet and Ray had felt something of their connection, the bond they shared, coming back to life.

He tried to relax his lips to complete the shave, but the smile popped up again before he could place the razor against his skin.

God… that time Ben had done it for him, shaved Ray—with that freaky knife of his? Who the hell shaved like that? Dangerous, was what it was. Ray had already seen himself d-e-d, dead, but Fraser had just smiled at him, eyes all crinkly and soft and Ray had given in. How was he supposed to say ‘no’?

Ray shivered at the memory and had to let his hand with the standard plastic razor drop again. Fraser shaving him with the edge of the blade against his skin had to be the most intense thing he had ever experienced.

Ben had looked so smooth, so self-assured, and Ray had had a hard-on in 10 seconds flat. But he hadn’t dared to move a muscle and—as if Fraser had known about the heat Ray was packing— he’d done that thing where he licks his lip, looking all concentrated, which was probably a good thing, and that had made it all just even harder to sit still. Harder, haha.

God, he had no idea if he had even managed to let Ben clean the foam off before he had mauled him, crushing their mouths together… phew, was it hot in here or was that just his own sweet fantasy?

Now Ray couldn’t even concentrate on the sink because… god, he really wasn’t fond of doing it in the bathroom, but that one time… he couldn’t have imagined anything hotter… walking had really been an issue for a day or two afterwards.

At some point, Ray managed to finish his shave and get dressed for work. He came out of the bedroom, looking around the apartment and figuring he really needed to clean some one of these days, when the blanket on the couch caught his eyes.

“Oh,” Ray actually said it out loud. In two quick strides he was next to the couch, touching the blanket almost reverently. Its blue was faded by now, but the material had only gotten softer with time. Ben had purchased it during their quest in one of the small towns— well, Fraser had called them ‘towns’, Ray didn’t have a word in his dictionary for 5 houses on frozen ground in the middle of nowhere— because Ray had forever complained about the cold.

Okay, the blanket itself didn’t change much about the fact that ‘god, it was frickin’ cold’ just because Supermountie didn’t know what cold was when it stretched as far as the eye could reach and beyond, but it made Ray feel better anyway.

They’d kept it and Ray always got it out as soon as the temperatures dropped. Because Chicago winters, boy, they had really taken their cue from the Canadian ice floes, thinking ‘guys, that’s how a winter is done, let’s give it all we’ve got.’

On a whim, Ray decided to take it to Fraser, who needn’t be kept warm—at least not physically— but who might get the same comfort out of it Ray had back in the day.

“Shit,” Ray cursed with a glance at the clock. Okay, first he had to get through work and then he could go bring Fraser the blanket. By the time his shift ended visitor hours would still be a long way away, but he might be able to persuade one of the nurses to let him sneak in—or he could at least drop it off with one of them to give it to Fraser if he couldn’t give it to him in person.

* * *

…

Without sleep the night stretched to all eternity… it was hard to imagine that it could ever be light again…

…

He’d tried sleeping… but every time he fell asleep others woke up…

… Victoria… in a parody of herself… constructed by Fraser’s mind of equal parts love and cruelty…

…

… and often he didn’t know which part he was meeting in his dreams… they seemed interchangeable… or maybe they were the same…

…

… Ray Vecchio… his appearance hurt almost more… the uncanny was the familiar in distorted form…

… sometimes Ray was aiming for him from the start… sometimes Ray was too late to stop him… sometimes Ray killed him… sometimes Ray’s shot missed…

…

Fraser could never distinguish which were the good solutions and which weren’t…

…they all felt like dying...

In some dreams it was Fraser holding the gun… in some he couldn’t tell love and hate apart… in some he fired the shot… saw Victoria fall… saw Ray drop…

…

Sleep wasn’t a safe haven… sleep offered no respite…

… to die… to sleep… perchance to dream… what dreams may come… must give us pause…

…

His eyes were so heavy…

His shoulders began to shake.

He couldn’t…

His gasping for breath shook his whole frame.

He couldn’t take it…

His sobs spilled over his lips like a prayer in reverse.

He couldn’t go on… not… not like this…

His leg started to spasm again, trembling uncontrollably.

He couldn’t even run away… not even crawl… he’d never get away from them…

His crying was shattered hope.

…

* * *

The door opened almost noiselessly and Ray breathed in relief. He really didn’t want to wake Fraser. It was somewhere around 4 o’ clock in the morning—or it had been by the time Ray arrived at the hospital.

He was just lucky that it was the elderly nurse on night duty again. She seemed to have a soft spot for Ray. She made him promise not to disturb Fraser and Ray was really trying not to.

A sound suddenly filled the quiet hallway and for a moment Ray thought he’d somehow caused it. Puzzled, he started at the slightly open door. Was that—was that crying?

He opened the door wider and squeezed into the room. His hand pushed the door closed automatically as his heart took a sudden dive into the floor. “Ben…” Ray gasped and rushed to the bed.

The light from the open window was hardly enough to illuminate anything, but it didn’t take more than the barest shadow of light to see that Ben was shaking if the sobs weren’t enough to tip you off.

He didn’t even notice that Ray had appeared in his room or that Dief seemed to try to provide comfort, standing on his other side.

“Hey… hey…” Ray murmured helplessly, dropping down on the bed beside him. Ben’s head flew up then, staring at him through his fingers with terror and such profound sadness that Ray felt his heart break.

Trying not to spook him, Ray reached out to pull Fraser’s hands away from his face.

They were shaking as Ray placed them gently in Fraser’s lap. “Shh…” Ray murmured again. His fingertips smoothed away the tear tracks on Fraser’s cheeks.

Fresh tears sprung up immediately and Ben’s breathing was still too fast, way out of control, sobbing and gasping and crying all at the same time.

Ray enveloped Ben in a hug, pressing his face close to Ben’s. His hands cradled Ben close, stroking soothingly down his back as he repeated the same nonsensical words again and again. “I’m here… shh… it’s all right… I’m here…”

At some point, Ray could make out words. Whispered, almost broken, but in between the sobs were fragments of whole sentences.

“I can’t… I can’t… it’s… too much… too…”

“Take a deep breath, Ben… don’t worry…” Ray repeated in a soft voice, pulling back a little to wipe the tears away again and to look Ben in the eye, to make Ben see him.

“I’m here with you, okay?”

He placed his hand on Fraser’s trembling leg. It didn’t stop the trembling, but it seemed to make Fraser feel better. His other hand went to Fraser’s neck, pulling their faces close together. “Breathe with me, okay?”

Slowly, Ray drew in a breath and held it for a moment. He released his breath again as slowly as he could. He heard Fraser mimic him even though his breathing shook and quavered.

After a few more, Fraser’s breathing calmed down.

The spasms in his leg subsided after another minute and Ray dared to remove his hand to embrace Fraser again.

“It will be fine… just give it time… I’m sorry I pushed you so much,” Ray continued talking since Fraser didn’t seem to be able to. “Relax…”

When Ben seemed a little more composed Ray pulled back again, still keeping his hands touching him. “I brought you something,” Ray motioned to a dark lump on the floor where he had dropped the blanket when he had seen the state Ben was in.

“I’ll get it—just—relax,” Ray admonished with a squeeze to Ben’s shoulder.

He got up, anxiously flicking glances at Ben. Ray flung the blanket wide and spread it over Fraser’s sheet. Incomprehension gave way to recognition as Ray looked at Ben.

“It’s the one you got me on the quest. Figured you might need some comfort, too, right?”

“…Ray…” Fraser’s voice broke.

Hurriedly, Ray sat down next to him again and took his hand again. “Shh… it’s no big deal, ‘kay? Just… maybe it helps you sleep?” He shrugged a little awkwardly.

“Thank you,” Fraser murmured almost inaudibly, staring at the faded blue of the blanket that looked more like dark gray in the dawning darkness of the room.

“Anytime,” Ray said with conviction and pressed a kiss into Ben’s palm.

They continued sitting together in the darkness for a long time. Dawn wasn’t far off now, but it was still too dark to find proof of it.

Ray just kept on holding Ben and Ben didn’t let go of his hand either. At some point they must’ve fallen asleep because Ray was woken up and shooed out by another nurse when it was already light out. He couldn’t help one last worried glance in Ben’s direction, but there was very little he could do now.

He’d come back later and hoped that Ben would feel better when he woke up.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It was maybe the first night of real sleep Fraser had had since the day of the surgery. He was weak and drained, but the feeling of oppression had lifted a little.

Half-awake, Fraser’s hands glided over the blanket covering him. He frowned and finally opened his eyes. For a moment he was confused when he was greeted by the old blue blanket and then memory came flooding back. Oh dear.

Mortification swept him up and Fraser felt his cheeks burn. Dear Lord, what must Ray be thinking of him now? How could he have lost it so completely? He couldn’t really remember. The whole night was blurry in his memory. A kaleidoscope of emotions – none of them nice – and fragments of images like shards from a broken mirror, but no coherent narrative.

Judging from Dief’s worried behavior he must’ve been really out of it.

Ray seemed to share the half-wolf’s attitude for when he visited a little while later he was full of soft smiles and warm caresses; Ray’s hands only seldom stopped touching him.

Fraser would’ve liked Ray to stop treating him like something fragile, but he didn’t know how to do that without bringing up last night—and Fraser really didn’t want to talk about his embarrassing display.

At least he felt… more settled? He could say that he was lots calmer during the day’s tests and he was more attentive in conversations.

Ray hadn’t asked about any of his tests… not even once. Fraser had dreaded the question, but as hour after hour passed it was clear that Ray wouldn’t ask. It was simply too difficult and frustrating to find an answer. He couldn’t move his legs, he had no control over his muscles—he couldn’t even sit up by himself.

And yet the doctors weren’t all discouraged. They appeared even satisfied with some of the responses the tests procured. Fraser would’ve liked to compare his experiences… but of all the things he remembered this wasn’t one of them. He didn’t have the foggiest if he had been able to feel more last time or just as little… and he didn’t have an infection last time, maybe that changed things as well.

No… Ray only smiled at him and didn’t ask any questions for which Fraser didn’t have an answer anyway. He relaxed, just a little.

He still wasn’t prepared for what happened the next day. Fraser tried to squish the feeling that someone looking a little more closely might have termed ‘fear.’

Why was he even surprised? He should’ve seen it coming. He just… he just… he had hoped the answer would be different…

* * *

“Frase? I—” Ray entered the hospital room and stared in shock at the empty bed. “Fraser?”

“I’m here, Ray,” came Fraser’s quiet voice.

Ray whirled in the direction of the window. His mouth opened on a silent ‘o’ of astonishment.

The grin that replaced it stretched so far it must’ve been hurting his face.

“I don’t believe it,” Ray voiced his surprise, still grinning like the cat that got the canary.

Fraser turned the wheelchair further in Ray’s direction. He had been afraid of the moment Ray would find him like this. He was bound to misunderstand.

“Ray, I… this is not the good news you think it is,” Fraser bit his lip. The smile on Ray’s lips wavered and crumbled at Fraser’s serious expression. It took Ray a visible effort to regain a wobbly smile.

He crossed the last few feet to Fraser’s spot and reached for his hands. He sat down on his haunches and looked up at Fraser. “Is this it?” Ray asked with a nod at the wheelchair. His voice was soft.

Fraser tried to find the best way to put it. He frowned.

“Because… I can deal with it, okay? If you—if this is—”

“I’m not paralyzed,” Fraser quickly interrupted before Ray could go too far into the other direction.

Ray sighed with relief and then he shook his head. “So what’s it gonna be? I think you’ve had some kind of breakthrough and you say it ain’t that. Then I think it means you won’t recover and it ain’t that either. What the hell is it?” Ray asked anxiously.

“The doctors think I might be able to start physio in a week—”

Fraser had to wait until Ray’s whoop of victory had died down again.

“Ray—”

“Oh, c’mon, Ben.”

“Ray—”

“That means your legs are getting better— hell, the whole surgery was worth it—”

“RAY! Listen to me…” and that was when words failed him.

Ray looked with seriousness at Fraser’s sad face. “What is it, Ben?”

Fraser took a deep breath and looked at their clasped hands before he raised his eyes again to meet Ray’s.

“They don’t think I will recover fully.”

The full stop at the end of his sentence might as well have been another gun shot.

It took Ray a second to react. “We’ll see about that when we get there,” Ray said decisively and the expression on his face was so fierce that Fraser couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Ray pushed up and his fingers came around Fraser’s shoulder as he angled his head down to kiss Fraser. A small electric shock went through Fraser at the contact. It had been a long time since their last kiss and it took him off guard.

Ray pulled back a little and smiled at Fraser. “This has got to be better than lying in bed, right? It can only get better.

…yes… it couldn’t get worse than being confined to a wheelchair, right? Might as well get used to it…

* * *

Ray was still smiling when he came back home. Fraser was up, he wasn’t lying morosely in bed anymore and Ray desperately hoped that it would help to get some confidence back into him. They had said he wouldn’t fully recover, but… a week ago they hadn’t been sure if he would recover at all. If Fraser could at least walk again, live without a wheelchair—get the feeling back in his legs… that would be a hell of a lot more than either of them could afford to turn down.

And Fraser had to be better, right? If he could maneuver a wheelchair? Sure he needed help getting in and out of it, but that meant he could move a little better… right?

Lost in thought, Ray rubbed his thumb over his lips. He only noticed after a moment and his smile turned positively wistful. The kiss had been way too short, a mere peck on the lips… but Ray hadn’t dared anything more. It had been over a week that they had done anything more than hold hands and… well, Ray hadn’t wanted to come on too strong.

But, god… he missed Fraser. Almost sleeping in the same bed with him had brought that little truth home with the force of a knock-out. Feeling silly, Ray dropped down onto their bed and pulled Fraser’s pillow close. He hadn’t changed the pillow case, figuring no one used it in between anyway and… Ray blushed hotly… so it smelled like Ben, sue him.

He pressed the pillow close to his face and inhaled. Oh… Ray’s fingers tightened their grip in the soft cotton. Damn, he missed him something fierce. Ray’s blood beat out a rapid jive. Just his smell was enough…

Ray’s hand sneaked down, brushing over his sweater until he reached his jeans. He bit his lip and pressed the heel of his hand against his groin. He groaned into Fraser’s pillow, nimble fingers already popping open the buttons.

“Ha…” Ray gasped as his fingers closed around his heated erection. Slowly, Ray trailed his finger up and down over the velvet skin, teasing himself. A whimper escaped his lips and he licked his fingers to repeat the tantalizing dance of his fingers.

His tongue came out to wet his lips when his fingers finally closed around his dick. “Ben...” he moaned quietly, seeing him so clearly in his mind’s eye. But he couldn’t shake the picture of Fraser at the hospital, try as he might.

His hand faltered and finally stopped its movement. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. Great. Now he felt guilty for something stupid like jerking off. And Fraser had never been opposed to Ray wanking… he’d even watched a couple of times.

But there was Fraser absent or watching instead of helping Ray out and there was Fraser _unable_ to do so. Those were two very different things. Ray felt like a dirty old pervert, unable to keep his dick in his pants for even a few weeks while his partner was in the hospital with massive nerve damage.

Surely he could keep his hands to himself for another week or so until Fraser could come home?

Ray wiped his hand on the bedspread and buttoned his fly up again. He dragged his ass over to the couch where he opened a beer and zapped through channels until he fell asleep.

* * *

Fraser wheeled along the corridor in a state of frustration. He had spent time in a wheelchair— more than enough, in fact. He knew how to use one. Practice… he shook his head.

He would have the rest of his life to practice.

But the nurse hadn’t stopped pestering him; not even feigning sleep had put her off for long. As she had told him—in no uncertain terms— the doctor had said he should start getting active again, exercising the muscles in his arms to prepare them for the strain of the physical therapy, so that was what she was making him do.

She had told him to at least move around the hospital, join the other patients in the main ward to watch television… Fraser snorted. Yes, watching television was a real motivation to get out of bed.

He sighed. The corridor stretched endlessly ahead of him; every corner looked the same, the row of doors undistinguishable.  Fraser stopped the wheelchair at a window that overlooked the park adjoining the hospital. Two small girls were playing in the grass. He smiled sadly.

The doctor had said that he might be able to go home for his physical therapy. Fraser glanced down at his useless legs for a moment before he focused his attention again on the playing children; they were playing a game of tag outside of the window.

Fraser had thought long and hard about this offer… in the end, he had decided against it, should it really come to pass. He was already enough of a burden as it was.

The apartment wasn’t designed for a wheelchair; he wouldn’t even be able to reach anything on his own. He would constantly have to ask for Ray’s help and… he didn’t want to become Ray’s responsibility.  The hospital was much easier to negotiate with a wheelchair anyway. Of course, he might have to give up his room and share one to make space for a patient who needed it for his recovery, but he didn’t mind that.

It was better this way. Ray was already doing enough for him as it was. He couldn’t ask of him to cook for him, help him get washed, dressed… the longer the list grew the firmer his resolve became. He would not burden Ray with this.

After an hour of aimlessly wheeling around, Fraser made his way back to his room. Dief was nowhere to be seen, but if Fraser had to take a guess he’d say that he was probably off visiting the nurse from the children’s ward. Dief probably only enjoyed all the attention the kids were bestowing on him… he shouldn’t be so bitter…

The walls were much too close. The whole air of the hospital was clogging his lungs. Angrily, he frowned again at his motionless legs. He tossed his head back and swallowed an expletive.

His gaze hit upon the side rails that were fastened to the walls around the room. His look became speculative.

* * *

_Go~d_ , Ray fell onto his couch with a groan and rubbed a hand over his face. This was driving him _nuts_. They should never have told him that Fraser could start therapy in a while.  Ever since they told him Ray was plagued by visions of Fraser getting out of the hospital and that led to thoughts of having him back at home and that… Ray grimaced.

He should really be better at controlling his—his—he waved his hand eloquently around the room—this lib… libo… damn it, how did that Nirvana song go? Ray hummed a few bars of _Smells Like Teen Spirit_ until he found the correct part of the lyrics—libido! That was it! At his age he should really be better at keeping his libido in check, but, _god_ , when was the last time he had to go a month without it?

And Ben was making it so damn hard. Looking all prim and proper and—hell—Ray had seen the muscles in his forearms bulge as he pushed the wheelchair and even that was a turn-on after seeing him corpse-like and frail for so long…

Ray had wanted to kiss him all day, but somehow… he shrugged even though there was no one there to see it. It had just never seemed the right time for it. Fraser had certainly given no sign that he wanted Ray to kiss him… he ran a hand through his hair and let his head fall back against the back of the couch. Sure, he hadn’t been cold or anything either… just… maybe Ray should’ve just bent down and kissed him?

But he didn’t want Ben to think he was forcing himself upon him. _Gah_ … Ray sighed. They were together, partners, kissing should be the most natural thing in the world…

…so why wasn’t it?

Ray frowned sadly at his second beer. If Ben were here he wouldn’t have gone for that second one. Ben would have looked sternly at him and had Ray tried to ignore him and gone for it anyway Ben would’ve found something to distract Ray with.

And the beer didn’t help. If anything it made the itch worse. Alcohol always made him think of sex. He should’ve taken over another shift tonight. It would’ve been better at keeping him occupied than what was on TV.

Ray went to bed and pulled the blanket over his head. Just a little while longer… he could do this…

* * *

“So? What do you think?” Ray presented the empty hallway of their apartment to Fraser. “Thought I couldn’t throw out some clutter now and again, nuh-uh, Mister. You haven’t seen me yet. All wheelchair-friendly.”

Fraser smirked at him and pushed the wheelchair forward.

Ray stepped past him and into their bedroom, turning his back to Fraser as he pulled the coverlet away. “C’mon, I’ll help you into bed and you can relax a little.”

A prickle at the back of his neck was the only warning Ray had before strong arms reached around him to pull him flat against a hard chest. Chest? How did—?

Ray gasped.

“Why don’t I help you into bed, Ray?” Was the amused murmur close to his ear.

Ray tried to look behind him to get a look at Fraser. “You—Ben—you can walk,” Ray exclaimed.

A warm chuckle ghosted over his skin. “I thought you would like that,” Ben continued with a smile while his hand moved lower, learning the shape of Ray’s body anew.

“Ah—this is—this is a dream,” Ray panted.

“Of course it is.” A warm tongue traced the shell of his ear. “Does it matter?” Clever fingers popped open the buttons of Ray’s fly, one by one.

“N-no,” Ray stuttered.

Deftly, Fraser’s hand stroked over Ray’s boxer briefs. “Oh god,” Ray’s voice caught.

“Missed me?” Fraser’s lips brushed against Ray’s throat.

“God, yes…” Ray rested his head on Fraser’s shoulder.

Fraser’s left hand shifted, reaching around Ray’s shoulder so that he could grip his chin and pull his mouth close for a kiss. Ray’s moan was lost in the slide of their tongues.

Self-assured, Fraser’s hand dove underneath the waistband of Ray’s boxers to grip his erection.

Ray was holding on to Fraser for dear life, not knowing if it was his tongue that set the rhythm or Fraser’s hand on his dick. Fraser released his mouth and murmured: “There are far too many clothes in the way.”

And Ray loved dreams, god, had he ever, because just like that they were both naked and he could press close to Fraser and feels his cock dip between his cheeks.

“Please,” Ray moaned. “God… it’s been so long…”

Fraser made a hungry sound and pulled Ray to the bed with him. “Do you want it slow?” Fraser asked, almost amused, as if he knew the answer already and was really only humoring Ray.

“No—no,” Ray gasped. “C’mon, just, _fuck_ —oh—”

Ray had no idea where the lube came from, but there was Fraser, holding him close, pressing in and—God, Ray fucking loved this dream— it didn’t hurt—not a bit—not even a burn—just the stretch of it and he thought he could feel every inch.

“Ray…” Fraser groaned into his ear and pulled Ray even closer with a tight grip on his hip.

And Ray wanted to move—he needed to—he—why couldn’t he move? Bewildered, Ray looked behind him only to find his legs completely entangled in the blanket and—what? He frowned—the blanket hadn’t even been there when they had tumbled into bed.

The whole scene shifted, blurred, and suddenly it was just Ray, humping his blanket as if there was no tomorrow. Ray gnashed his teeth together. His hand moved into his boxer briefs before he had even consciously thought about it. God, he was so hard… he needed to finish this…

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed anything this desperately. Ray groaned into the pillow and moved his hand faster, tightening his grip. “God—” the moan was wrung from his lips.

He began to shake and bit into Fraser’s pillow to smother his moan as he spilled over his hand.

He lay there shaking, trying to catch his breath. His hand sticky and the sheets growing uncomfortably wet where he was lying. “God…” he mumbled. He glanced blearily at his alarm clock. It wasn’t even half past three yet. Ray reached for the night stand to get a couple of tissues to mop up most of the mess before he turned around to try and get back to sleep.

* * *

Ray was almost vibrating with his impatience to see Fraser the next morning. God, he couldn’t shake that damn dream… he _really_ needed to see Fraser now. He smiled. This time he wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him.

His disappointment was even more acute therefore when he didn’t find Fraser alone in his room. The attending doctor was present as well and even seemed to have waited for Ray to show up.

A little puzzled, Ray smiled at the group. “Uh, hey, morning.”

“Ah, Detective Kowalski, very good. I was just discussing something with Corporal Fraser,” the doctor’s gaze seemed the tiniest bit dissatisfied with whatever had transpired before Ray had showed up. “I thought it might be best to let you voice an opinion as well.”

“Sure, hit me,” Ray said, raising his eyebrows at Fraser to ask ‘what the hell’s going on here?’

“I just let the Corporal know that he might consider going home by the end of the week—”

“Seriously?” Ray’s smile could’ve put a whole city out of electricity it was so bright.

“Yes,” the doctor continued patiently. “As long as he has someone to take care of him and make sure that he takes his meds, and as long as he appears here regularly for his physical therapy there is nothing preventing him from being released.”

Before Ray could even say his bit, Fraser entered the conversation.

“And while I appreciate it, I think I have made it clear that I have given the matter some thought since you first made this proposal and that it won’t be necessary,” Fraser replied with a frown.

Say what? Ray stared dumb-founded at Fraser. He had known? Fraser had already known that he would be able to go home? …and he hadn’t told Ray?

“It will be much more practical—and I’m sure Ray will agree—much more sensible if I stayed here for the duration of my physical therapy.”

Ray stood there gaping. But… but… why? He could… and he had planned everything… he had… why?

“Our apartment is hardly made for easy access with a wheelchair and I don’t want to take advantage of Ray—he is busy enough without looking after me the whole day.”

The doctor sighed and looked at Ray. Ray had no idea what he could see on his face, but it couldn’t have been pretty because the doctor nodded at him with something that might have been sympathy or pity.

“It might be best if you discussed this for a moment. I will come by later to find out if this is your final decision.”

The door fell closed and Ray was still standing frozen to the spot. “I could… I saved my vacation days to—to help… when you could come home…” Ray mumbled, almost inaudible, trying hard not to let the hurt break him wide open.

Fraser smiled gently at him. “Ray, that’s not necessary. I would never ask this of you. I’m taken care of here; it’s much easier for everyone involved if I simply stay here. I don’t want to impose—”

“Fuck _impose_ —” Ray spat and tried not to let it register how much his voice wobbled.

Fraser frowned disapprovingly.

“How long have you known?” Ray asked. God, his throat hurt. “Huh? How long since they told you you could go home?”

Fraser sighed as if Ray was being unreasonable. “Two days ago. And it was a mere possibility—I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up—”

“No… you’d rather I just find out when all is said and done… fuck you, Fraser,” Ray heard the tears, somewhere in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard.

“Ray…” Fraser said softly. “I didn’t intend to hurt you. But it is the best solution, think about it.”

“I’ve worked my ass off to be able to take you home, you know that? I was dreaming of you coming home, I—fuck—” Ray wiped a hand quickly over his eyes. “I need to go,” Ray mumbled and stormed out of the door.

Fraser’s “Ray!” followed him down the corridor, but he didn’t turn back.

* * *

Fraser kept staring at the open door for what seemed like an hour after Ray had vanished.

He hadn’t… he had never meant to hurt Ray. Couldn’t he see how much pressure this would put on him if he had to take care of Fraser all day? He didn’t want Ray to build his life around helping him.

Fraser sighed and looked sadly at the open door. He’d had no idea that Ray had been saving his vacation days—he couldn’t even see how Ray could’ve accomplished this.

Unless he had gone to work these last few weeks—and he hadn’t, he’d always been with Fraser at the hospital for most of the day, there was no way he could’ve—

Fraser’s eyes widened. Unless… had Ray worked the night shift? Oh god… the dark shadows under his eyes and the stubble on his chin on most days hadn’t been just from worrying. Ray had stayed with him throughout the day and then gone to work during the night…

There was no other explanation.

All that so… just so that Fraser could come home when they allowed him to.

Oh dear.

But wasn’t this exactly why Fraser thought it better if he stayed in the hospital? So that Ray wouldn’t have to carry this burden?

He thought long and hard about their falling out. What if this was only false pride on his part? And if it wasn’t… Ray would probably never forgive him for this one way or another… Nothing was worth Ray ruining himself. Fraser rubbed his eyebrow.

Maybe he could try to make this as simple for Ray as possible… and after a while… maybe Ray would understand that being together with him when he was in a wheelchair wasn’t as easy as he had thought. And maybe Ray would realize that he didn’t want that after all…

Fraser swallowed quickly and blinked a few times. There was no reason to think this yet… and the therapy might at least allow him to get by without a wheelchair.

Carefully, Fraser closed the door and positioned the wheelchair again next to the side rails. He could do this. Fraser bit his lips and braced the muscles in his arms to support the rest of his body.

* * *

Ray kept hitting the heavy bag until the sweat was running into his eyes and he had to stop. He was breathing heavily, supporting himself with one arm against the punching bag to stay upright.

Ray had spent the afternoon at the 2-7. He had been working—at least according to his definition. Welsh had made him go home long before his shift would’ve been over, though. According to him, Ray was only messing everything up. He’d gotten into two quarrels with Elaine’s new partner, just because the guy had a smart mouth—something Ray usually liked about him, and he had almost ended up in a fight with one of the perps waiting for booking.

Ray smacked the bag again with a quick 1-2-punch. Coming here after Welsh had turned him out the door had been a good idea. He delivered a stinging right hook to the bag and gasped for breath.

He couldn’t believe it. And _damn_ _it_ , it still hurt!

Didn’t Fraser want to come back home with him? Didn’t Fraser care at all if they were together or not?

_Fuck_ —Ray hit the bag again. He was more hurt than angry though, which explained why this was draining him so much. He began to shiver as the sweat on his skin began to cool.

Now his body hurt to match the rest of him.

The frickin’ nerve of him! Ray aimed a vicious kick at the punching bag. God, he wanted to break something. Or cry. He hadn’t decided yet.

This was— _arghh_ —this was so infuriatingly like Fraser! This was the goddamn headache-thing all over again. Why tell Ray anything? It would only worry his pretty head. Ray snarled and stabbed at the bag yet again; even though his punch lacked all spite by now. Nooo, why tell Ray the truth? Ray couldn’t deal with the tough stuff, oh no, Ray was only good when it came to the sunshine parts of life. _Fuck._

Ray stopped again, panting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cursed so much. His mother would be shocked. This was all Fraser’s fault—for weeks—weeks! Ray had tried to be the best he could be and then… then… Fraser just went and did his own thing anyway.

Ray’s hands dropped to his side. He was exhausted.

Defeated, he dragged himself into the locker room for a quick shower and donned some clean clothes before he went back to their apartment.

For a long moment, Ray kept standing in the door to the darkened hallway. He threw his gym bag into the corner and moved through the dark until he could drop down onto the couch.

“Damn it…” Ray muttered. He was probably doing it all wrong. Someone must’ve written a guidebook on how to deal with stubborn people stuck in a hospital and Ray was sure he was breaking all the rules.

He should’ve—hell, he didn’t know how he should’ve reacted. Not like he had probably. Ray was supposed to be the strong one in this, not the one who freaked out.

He put his feet up on the coffee table and squirmed deeper into the couch cushions. If he wasn’t so bloody hot-headed all the time he would’ve taken a deep breath and told Fraser that he was coming home with Ray, no question about it, stick it in a box marked ‘done.’

God, they had told him that it would get difficult, hadn’t they? He _knew_ he shouldn’t take anything personally, that Fraser would lash out without meaning to—but—Ray garbled another four letter word—they didn’t know Fraser. For Fraser lashing out meant forgetting to say ‘kindly’ or maybe even forgetting to say the whole shebang with ‘thank you’ and ‘an extra second to be courteous.’

Ray sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d reacted badly… it had just hurt so much… still…

What was his excuse? He hadn’t been confined to a hospital for weeks to be then told that he might not ever recover the full use of his legs. He wasn’t sitting in a wheelchair staring months of excruciating physical therapy in the face. Yeah… well done, Kowalski. God, he was such an ass.

It was too late to take it back now. God, could he have a nickel for every time he’d wanted to in his life, please?

On his way to the bathroom he noticed that the light on the telephone was flashing. He picked it up and looked at the display. 3 missed calls. The number was Fraser’s room at the hospital.

Ray hung his head, ashamed. He looked at the clock. It was only a little after 9, he could still call him. Ray thoughtfully chewed on his lower lip. Maybe it was better to sleep it off and start tomorrow with a clean slate.

He replaced the phone in the cradle and continued his way to the bathroom. He hadn’t gotten further than five steps when he growled and turned back around. _Dammit_ , for the last time, his mother had raised no coward. He was Chicago born and bred—stepping clear of a confrontation was not in his blood.

It wasn’t nervousness, he told himself, that was making his hands sweaty as he pressed the call button.

“Rush Medical Center, Corporal Benton Fraser speaking,” the voice coming from the speaker said, slightly puzzled. For a moment, Ray forgot their fight and stifled a grin. Trust Ben to get confused about the correct procedure to answer the telephone in a hospital room. Who did he think was calling him?

“Hey, Frase,” Ray said quietly, gripping the plastic of the phone a little too tightly.

“Ray,” Fraser sounded relieved. “Are you all right?”

Ray shook his head with another exasperated smile. He shouldn’t have worried Fraser; he had enough on his plate as it was.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m sorry… for what happened this morning…”

“Please, don’t apologize,” Fraser said in a pained voice.

“No, I should,” Ray sighed. “I’m… I’m not mad anymore, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow and we talk, sounds good?”

“Ray, I—” There was a pause and Ray could almost see Fraser rubbing his eyebrow. “I thought about what you said and I… I’d like to come home… if—if you’re still offering,” he hastily amended.

Ray stared at the telephone for a moment. He crossed the fingers of his free hand.

“Really?” Ray’s voice sounded breathless.

“Really,” Fraser repeated softly.

“Greatness,” Ray exclaimed. And then he thought that maybe Fraser was just saying it to make him feel better. “You, uh, you can sleep on it, if you want… and we’ll talk tomorrow?” Ray made a question out of it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, sleep well.”

“Yeah, you too,” Ray mumbled.

Ray really couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on his face. He danced a little jig and slid the last few feet on his socks over the floor on his way to the bathroom. Ben was coming home. Even though he probably still thought his own idea was much more sensible. Ray didn’t care. Fraser couldn’t tell him he would be happier at the hospital. Not even Fraser could make him buy that. And Fraser made a lot of weird stuff sound perfectly normal.

Tomorrow, Ray smiled. Yeah, he could deal with tomorrow.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Fraser was wondering how Ray’s visit would go over after their phone conversation yesterday. He wasn’t sure if Ray might not still be mad at him. Ray’s outbursts were usually worse if he couldn’t vent them the moment they were caused. Maybe sleeping on it had reminded Ray of all the things he had wanted to confront Fraser with?

Ray appeared almost as soon as visiting hours allowed it. One look at Ray’s face made it clear that there was indeed something pressing on his mind. That probably explained his impatience to see Fraser.

Fraser took one more look at the storm he could see brewing behind Ray’s eyes and steeled himself for the imminent rush of words, scattered with expletives, and held together by mangled grammar, with which Ray usually vented his frustration.

“Fraser—” Ray said in a rushed voice followed by a frown.

“Hello, Ray,” Fraser tried to keep his voice light, but it was clear that Ray was a powder keg ready to blow no matter how Fraser played his cards.

“Ben—” Ray started again and Fraser could almost see the words building up in his mind, ready to create a tempest that would enable him to voice his body’s restlessness.

Suddenly, Ray reached for Fraser’s shoulders, holding him in place and Ray bent down—looking him in the eye with the same brooding expression on his face—and then he closed the distance between them and captured Fraser’s lips in a kiss.

Soft… so soft… Fraser couldn’t remember the last time Ray had kissed him with so much tenderness. Their lips came together again and again, hardly letting go at all in between, and Ray’s tongue gently probed to be let in and Fraser gladly met him halfway.

He had always known that Ray would be a great kisser, right from the very start, before he had even consciously considered kissing in the equation. How could anyone with such a mobile mouth, with such a sharp tongue, and with such an oral fixation be anything else?

But maybe Fraser had forgotten it over time… had he at all thought about kissing him since he had been in the hospital? …how could he have forgotten… _this?_

Oh… Ray drew Fraser in, rubbing their tongues together and then it felt like falling. Or breathing… or both. Ray’s hands wandered, stroking his neck, gripping his hair, angling his head so that he could deepen the kiss.

Urgent… hungry… heated…

How could he have forgotten how this felt?

The kiss held so much promise… more than Fraser could bear believing in… too many hopes; Ray put too many hopes in this… but, _god_ , Fraser wanted to believe his kiss.

Ray pulled away gasping for breath, but his lips were back a second later for another kiss. When he released Fraser’s lips again he smiled crookedly.

“You have no idea what I wanna do to you when we’re back home,” he croaked. His thumb smoothed over Fraser’s lips. “God… I know we can’t, like, get athletic or anything,” Ray grinned, “but I’m a really resourceful guy.”

Fraser had no voice to speak. Everything inside of him was frozen from one heartbeat to the next. Oh dear.

“Mhm…” Ray kissed him again. “I want to touch you so bad… I dreamed you were fucking me, Ben,” and the four letter word fell almost tenderly from Ray’s lips. “Wanna feel that again… feel you again… god… I’m gonna make you feel so good…”

Fraser’s fingers clenched around the armrest of the wheelchair. He tried to say something, anything, but no words would come.

Frowning, Ray drew back a little to peer at Fraser’s face.

“Hey… you look like a statue all of a sudden—what’d I say?”

Determined, Fraser stared over Ray’s shoulder. He had to tell him. “I… I can’t…” he whispered.

The puzzled expression on Ray’s face deepened. “Huh? I thought they said you could go home—did something happen? Sorry, shit, I should’ve asked first. Is—”

“I can go home,” Fraser managed to get out in a strangled voice. “I just… I can’t… I can’t… that, I can’t do that…” The doorframe above Ray’s shoulder suddenly seemed the most fascinating thing Fraser had ever seen.

Ray’s frown cleared and he smiled flirtatiously. “Sure you can, think you’ve forgotten how to in a few weeks? Don’t worry,” he murmured and leaned in again. “I can show you how.”

Before his lips could touch Fraser’s, Fraser used Ray’s body to push the wheelchair backwards, putting some distance between him and Ray.

Bewildered, Ray stared at Fraser.

“Ben?” he asked confused.

Fraser licked his lips and tried to look anywhere but at Ray. He hadn’t… he hadn’t thought about his… problem… in a while… He felt the blush creeping onto his cheeks as mortification blazed a hot trail through his chest.

“I’m not…” Fraser took a deep breath. “I’m not functional…” he said quietly, trying not to meet Ray’s eyes.

The silence stretched into an eternity from where Fraser was sitting. He could almost hear the particles in the room expanding.

“What do you mea—oh,” Ray stopped mid-sentence. The next instant, Ray’s face filled Fraser’s vision as Ray took his face between his hands.

“Don’t listen to me and my big trap, okay? Jesus,” Ray let his head hang. “I’m sorry… I didn’t—I didn’t know… how could I be so stupid?” Ray asked himself. He stood up again and began pacing.

“I mean, you had surgery done and it was all so close to the spine and—shit, I—I didn’t want to… god, I’m so sorry…” Ray muttered, distressed.

Ray came to a stop in front of Fraser again. “Listen, it doesn’t matter—”

“Of course it does,” Fraser said softly.

Ray’s expression turned stubborn. “No, it doesn’t. I want you back home with me—I want to sleep next to you and I want to be able to touch you—and we can still do all of those things.”

Fraser looked up at Ray then and smiled sadly. “Yes, but it’s not enough.”

Ray snarled. “What—you think I’m just in it for the sex?” As if realizing where he was Ray threw a glance over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “I’m not with you to get laid!” he repeated.

“Ray,” Fraser tried to explain as patiently as he could. “You are a very physical person, you—”

“What? Now you’re holding this against me? I don’t believe this—”

“Ray, I’m not using anything against you.” Didn’t Ray understand this? That this might be permanent? That it wasn’t a question of patience or good behavior? Didn’t Ray see what he might be giving up?

“I-I might…” God, this was hard to say. “I might never be able to, Ray.”

And Ray looked so proud and so determined when Fraser’s words registered.

“I don’t care,” Ray said… as Fraser had known he would. But this was the heat of the moment and it spoke for Ray’s caring heart that this was his immediate reaction… but time would work on him. Months would pass, and then years… this wasn’t a competition about who could go without sexual gratification the longest, where you could mark each day with a red marker in the calendar until a pre-set day X.

Ray would have needs… and sooner or later… just being together wouldn’t be enough anymore. He didn’t want to put Ray through the guilt and the torment of acknowledging these desires.

“…Ray…” Fraser’s throat felt tight.

He didn’t get more than that one word out, though, before he had his arms full of Ray again. The kiss was soul-searching and desperate and Fraser pulled Ray tighter. He didn’t want to give Ray up… He just wouldn’t be able to make him stay.

But for the moment he would treasure the feeling of Ray in his arms. For as long as he would get to have this.

* * *

Fraser fell asleep sometime in the afternoon so Ray took Dief for a walk. He scribbled a hasty note explaining that just in case Fraser woke up and thought he had left.

Dief and he walked along the paths of the hospital garden.

He couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation… god… why didn’t he simply shoot Fraser himself and spare him the pain? Shit… it all came back to the same thing: he should’ve thought of this. But it hadn’t occurred to him.

Aw, hell. Sure he had thought of sex. But he hadn’t thought about it in a medical way, not in an anatomical-function-kinda-way or anything. And with the kidney thing, and Fraser losing weight, and the possibility of him being stuck to a wheelchair this simply hadn’t made Ray’s list.

And somehow, when Fraser had started using the wheelchair and the catheter had come out and everything, Ray had simply assumed that everything was fine now. He hadn’t thought about this problem at all.

Why hadn’t Fraser said something? Why had he let Ray ramble on and on about it at all? Ray wanted to kick something, but the hospital park was spotless which only made Ray madder. Yeah… all right… he knew why Fraser hadn’t told him. He didn’t think he would have had the guts to do it either. Damn, he’d made such a fool of himself. Fraser must think him a real ass.

Maybe that was why Fraser hadn’t wanted to come home? So that he wouldn’t have to tell Ray? He sighed and Dief yipped next to him. Ray smiled down at the wolf.

“You know, this would be much easier if you spoke human. I bet this all looks pretty straight-forward to you, huh?”

Dief barked in what might’ve been agreement. Ray shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. Now Fraser had him talking to the wolf in public, maybe Ray should lie down for a while, too.

He supposed he should consider the possibility that he might never have sex with Fraser again. It just seemed too surreal to think about it—and he couldn’t imagine not being with him for _any_ one reason. What was Ben expecting? That Ray should just say ‘oh, in that case, sorry, I’d better find someone who’s able to fuck me’? Ray winced. That was just dumb.

They would come home and then Ray could prove to Ben that they were still an item, still partners. All they needed was a bit of privacy and maybe Fraser needed another look at his old life to figure that it was worth getting back… at least, Ray hoped that it was.

Ray knew that he was pinning a lot of hopes on this coming-home-plan, but he figured he needed _something_ to look forward to; he just couldn’t do it without a glimpse of hope. Fraser might be good at not looking past today, but Ray needed a little bit more than that to cope with everything.

And from what the nurses had told him he could expect it to get easier—they’d all said that a familiar environment and a bit of daily routine might help Fraser’s progress along.

Ray’s thought circled back on itself and he came again to their current problem. Was that why Fraser hadn’t kissed him—had even been touching him less and less— over the last weeks? Because it made him uncomfortable that he, you know, couldn’t?  Maybe Ray shouldn’t have kissed him like that this morning… he hadn’t wanted to make Fraser uncomfortable. He’d just… he hadn’t been able to find the right words and… it had been a knee-jerk-thing, he hadn’t really thought about it. He’d just been thinking about kissing him for such a long time…

Dief and he ambled back to Fraser’s room. They hadn’t even been gone all that long; Fraser would probably be surprised that they were back already.

Maybe Dief was just as worried as Ray?

They arrived back at Fraser’s room and Ray opened the door without knocking, just in case Fraser was still asleep.

“Dief—you’re draggin’ half the park inside!” Ray hissed as he saw the dark paw prints on the otherwise pristine linoleum. The chief nurse would have his head on a platter for this. Ray entered the room and frowned at the unrepentant half-wolf. “What am I supposed to do—”

There was a loud crash and something that sounded like “shit”—but Ray wouldn’t swear to that, it was just too improbable.

Like a flash, Ray turned in the direction of the noise. All color left his face. “Ben! What happened?!” Ray exclaimed, crossing the room in a few quick strides.

Fraser was lying on the ground, two or three feet away from his wheelchair that was leaning against the wall. “Are you okay? What the hell were you thinking?” Ray snapped at him as his hand closed around Fraser’s biceps, trying to help him up.

“I’m fine,” Fraser muttered irritably. “I’m fine!” he repeated, annoyed, when Ray tried to half-carry him back to the wheelchair.

“I can—I can do this on my own,” Fraser glared at him and reached for the side rails.

So that was what he had been doing, Ray thought. Fraser had practiced getting out of the wheelchair with the help of the railings.

He didn’t know if he should be proud of him or angry.

He helped steadying Fraser, who had managed to keep himself upright with a strong grip of the side rails, and reached out to draw the wheelchair close. Ray helped him into it, frowning. “Are you all—”

“I’m fine!” Fraser almost shouted.

Ray raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Easy!” He cocked his head and considered Fraser for a moment. “You’re the most stubborn man I know, Benton Fraser.”

Fraser looked at him with irritation clearly written in the tight line of his mouth. Ray started to grin. He couldn’t help it. Fraser hadn’t hurt himself, he was all right. And, hell, he was _trying_ —Ray had no words to describe how happy that made him, just knowing that Fraser hadn’t given up—not yet.

Fraser’s lips relaxed into something like a small smile.

“Did you hurt anything?” Ray asked a little more softly.

“No, I don’t think so. You surprised me—I wasn’t expecting anyone to enter the room.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Ray answered dryly.

Hesitantly, Ray covered Fraser’s hand with his own and squeezed. It would be all right. Between Fraser’s pig-headedness and Ray’s inability to let go he thought they had it covered.

* * *

Fraser woke with an unpleasant feeling, cold, wet, and… sticky. He made a dismayed face.

“Oh for the love of…” Fraser muttered, reaching out to the night stand to grab a tissue. This hadn’t happened to him in, well, years, really. His hand came up with empty air and Fraser finally opened his eyes to take in his surroundings.

Dear Lord. Shocked, Fraser flung back the blanket to stare at the wet patch of his sleeping gown. He reached for the handle above his bed to pull himself up a little and get a better look.

But he couldn’t… produce an erection…? But if he was able to produce nocturnal emissions then…

A smile enveloped his features with lightning quickness. He was uncomfortable, he was wet—he’d never been happier in his life.

Relieved, he fell back onto his pillow. The relief lasted only for a second, though.

“Good morning, my we’re up bright and early today.” The nurse came bustling in for the morning routine. Reflexively, Fraser threw the blanket back down and gripped it tight. She reminded him of his grandmother—he couldn’t let her—no, it was out of the question.

“Ah, good morning,” Fraser cleared his throat.

“Well, shall we get started?” She asked brightly, reaching for the sheet.

Fraser’s grip tightened. “That, ah, won’t be necessary.”

“Nonsense,” she exclaimed laughing and made another move for the sheet.

“I’d really rather you wouldn’t,” Fraser stated.

With a puzzled frown, the nurse stepped back to consider him over the rim of her glasses. “I’ve been a nurse for almost all of my life, I’m sure there’s nothing I haven’t seen yet.”

Be that as it may, Fraser thought.

“I’d really prefer it—” sudden inspiration struck him. “Couldn’t Ray do it?”

“Oh, of course, my dear. If it’ll make you feel better,” she smiled at him. “I’ll let him know when he comes in.”

“Thank you,” Fraser said, still not happy with the solution. Ray really shouldn’t have to bathe him… and he would still have to let Ray know why.

But his discomfort was a very strong motivator, Fraser reflected. He really hoped Ray would be early again. This was getting rather unpleasant rather quickly.

It wasn’t long before Ray’s head appeared in the door frame. Ray grinned at him with an endearingly puzzled frown on his face.

“Morning… listen, that nurse—the one that always looks at me like my English teacher back in high school, all ‘don’t slouch’ and ‘don’t swear’— actually a lot of things that start with ‘don’t’? Anyway, she asked me if I minded washing you—”

“Yes, I would very much appreciate it,” Fraser interrupted. He really needed to get rid of this sensation. He would be far happier about this revelation if he could do it in dry underwear.

Ray looked just as confused as a minute ago. “Sure, let go of the blanket and we can get started,” he said with a grin at Fraser’s safety grip on the sheet.

“Ray, I,” Fraser pulled at the collar of his hospital gown. “I didn’t ask without a reason. I’m afraid this is a rather embarrassing situation,” he explained.

Ray rolled his eyes and made a quick dash for the blanket. He still held half of the blanket in his hands when his eyes got wide as he stared at the patch on the front of Fraser’s mint-colored gown.

Embarrassed, Fraser folded his hands in his lap and Ray finally managed to draw his eyes away. “Is that—?”

“Ah, yes…”

Ray’s surprised laughter rang through the room for a moment before he dropped the blanket to pull Fraser close for a kiss.

“I know I wasn’t awake for most of high school, but it’s gotta be working to do that, you know?” Ray explained cheerfully.

Fraser bit his lip and tried to keep from grinning. “Yes, I know that, Ray.”

Ray made a greedy-hand-motion. “So, do I get to clean you now or not?”

“If you would be so kind, I’m afraid it’s itching almost beyond the scope of human imagination.”

Ray cackled and set to work.

It was oddly exposing to let Ray do this. Ray brought a playfulness to the otherwise clinical task of hygiene that made Fraser keenly aware that this wasn’t just a wash for practical reasons. Ray was enjoying himself and Fraser was consciously aware of his own vulnerability.

Ray didn’t comment on his burning cheeks, though. Instead, he leaned in now and again to kiss an inch of exposed skin or he stopped to rub Fraser’s legs a little to help with the circulation.

They had both fallen quiet at some point and they smiled at each other as Ray helped Fraser into a fresh gown.

“I’m really glad that you can come home with me tomorrow,” Ray said, busying himself with smoothing the blanket out again.

Fraser was afraid that Ray wouldn’t like it for long.

* * *

Ray felt like some high-up-the-ladder general involved in some sort of tactical maneuver with possible military repercussions. In reality, it was ‘just’ the debriefing on what to keep in mind once Fraser was an at-home patient.

Ray scratched his head and hoped to hell that he could remember all of this. See, he had kind of been thinking of the practical side of things for this gig.

After rediscovering Fraser’s libido – ha, he hadn’t forgotten the stupid word – yesterday morning, Ray had gone back to the apartment to get it Fraser-proof.

The apartment looked scarily empty now that Ray had removed as much clutter as was humanly possible. He’d rediscovered an old closet in his bedroom and had piled everything that looked like a possible wheelchair-obstacle into it.  He couldn’t do much about the way the kitchen cupboards were arranged or anything of the sort, but he had at least put a few of the ordinary things onto lower shelves so that Fraser would be able to get to them and he had moved Fraser’s clothes from the closet to a drawer that Ray thought he should be able to open out of a wheelchair.

See? Ray had been mighty practical. Well… Ray tried not to blush; he might have gotten distracted a little when he had pushed the couch to the side so that Fraser would have space to maneuver. For underneath he had found a few pale blue buttons that Fraser had been looking for at one point, but that had never reappeared again– who the hell moved a couch around?

And, boy, did Ray remember how the buttons had ended up there in the first place. He wasn’t sure why, and Ray would almost bet money that they had been having an argument, but somewhere in the middle they must’ve found something better to do with their mouths than bicker.

Ray could still see how urgent it had suddenly been to get the other out of his clothes and Ray had gripped the lapels of Fraser’s shirt and pulled—scattering half a dozen buttons around the room—and— _god_ —the sound Fraser had made then, this deep growl… they had made love on Fraser’s already ruined shirt, right in the middle of the living room for what seemed like hours.

Pity, Ray couldn’t remember what the argument had been about. Might’ve been worth taking up again.

Afterwards they had laughed and hadn’t been able to stop; Ray could still picture Fraser’s breathless grin. One of the few times when Ray had really gotten Fraser to grin like a maniac. They hadn’t even gotten up from the floor. They had just lain there, touching almost everywhere, doing—no idea, maybe they had talked, maybe they hadn’t. But it had been a magical moment.

Ray put the buttons into his pant pockets.

And Ray had really thought he had considered everything there was to watch out for when Fraser came home. Yeah, showed what he knew. The doctor had quite a different take on what was important. He didn’t seem to care much where Ray kept the plates while Fraser was in a wheelchair; to him it was more important which pill had to be taken when.

The red one had to go after the orange one—but it would be fatal if he took the one with the red dots on it after he had had the white one… at least, that’s what the explanation sounded like to Ray. Of course, they gave him notes and all the pill bottles had a reminder on them of when and how many Fraser was supposed to take, but Ray was really a little scared that he would screw this up.

At first, he had put his faith in Fraser—he never forgot anything. Ray could simply ask him if he wasn’t sure. But for one reason or other the doctor seemed to think it was more important that Ray got this instead of Fraser.

And later, when one of the nurses showed Ray all of the moves to help with the wheelchair, and what to do in case of muscle spasms, they also provided helpful advice on what to do if Fraser didn’t take his meds. Huh. So that was why Ray had to keep track: so that Fraser couldn’t wiggle out of it.

Though with the stuff that could occur when he didn’t take them Ray couldn’t imagine why Fraser should try to get by without the pills. They sounded as if they made sense:  pills to keep the muscles relaxed and others to prevent those spasms, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea to Ray.

Dief seemed glad to go back home again and Ray was glad that he could stop explaining to people that Fraser didn’t want any visitors. The only thing that had kept Frannie in check was that Turnbull seemed to understand Fraser’s wish and he also apparently never tired of explaining it to Frannie again, who could be surprisingly stubborn for a woman her size. Or maybe because of it.

Ray wasn’t so sure about Fraser’s state of mind. He had been comparatively subdued all morning and Ray had been afraid to ask—precisely because he thought Fraser was having second thoughts about this plan.

“Well,” Ray said as he pushed open the door to their apartment. “Here we are, home sweet home.”

* * *

Astonished, Fraser looked around the apartment. Ray had gone through all that trouble for him?

Ray didn’t seem able to stop grinning at him and his surprise and Fraser was so touched he didn’t have words to express how much this meant to him. Never, in all their time they had been together, had Ray been able to keep the clutter to a minimum.

Fraser’s addition to Ray’s apartment when he had moved in with him had consisted of one box of personal belongings and one knapsack of clothes.

And since then he hadn’t accumulated much more. A few books, granted, but he had even installed a bookshelf for them to keep them nice and neat and out of the way.

There was so much space suddenly… Fraser looked around a little wistfully. He hadn’t had anything against Ray’s personal touch cluttering up the apartment. Fraser had always associated it with their home and with Ray’s whirlwind ways. Now it all looked so… neat. Spartan.

Ray orchestrated a little tour around the apartment, showing Fraser the things that had changed location so that Fraser could do at least a modicum of things by himself.

“Thank you, Ray,” he whispered before he had to clear his throat.

If anything, Ray’s grin got even bigger. His happiness was almost catching; Fraser smiled back.

Over the course of the day, however, Fraser began to feel like a guest in his own home. Ray was tripping over his feet trying to be helpful and come evening it was very clear that things were not back to normal.

It wasn’t even the fact that Ray had to help him through his bathroom routine… which was already embarrassing enough if someone asked Fraser. But when they finally made it to their bedroom they both stopped in front of the bed looking unsure of how to proceed now.

“Uh, so, how do you sleep?” Ray asked, unsure.

“On my back, mostly. I can’t really lie on my side,” Fraser explained. Ray nodded as if this was a very sensible idea.

“Okay, then,” Ray pulled back the cover and reached down to help Fraser out of the wheelchair. They had had a couple of tense moments this afternoon when Ray had tried to lift him out and Fraser had wanted to do it by himself so that they now had a rather awkward mixture of both in which Ray helped with the initial push and then steadied the wheelchair with one hand so that Fraser could slide over by himself.

Once Fraser was settled in, Ray went back to his side and got in as well. Ray’s hands didn’t seem to know what they wanted to do as Ray tried to come up with the right words. “You, dunno, need anything else? Some water? Or—”

“I’m fine, Ray,” Fraser repeated for the umpteenth time. He was at home, he could get himself a glass of water… he frowned. He could at least ask for it himself; he hadn’t lost his voice after all.

“Good, sure, greatness,” Ray mumbled and switched off the light.

It was the most awkward moment Fraser could ever remember being in with Ray. Even out on the trail, even on that first night when they had to share a sleeping bag, even before they had even acknowledged that there was anything more to this than buddies preserving body heat, they had no problems fitting together.

Fraser had zipped the sleeping bags together, Ray had slid in with him and just like that they had lain half-wrapped around each other and promptly fallen asleep.

Now, Fraser could hear Ray’s breathing next to him; too uneven to be asleep. After what felt like forever, Ray moved closer and reached a hesitant hand out to place it on Fraser’s chest. Ray was lying on his side, close, but only just touching, when he spoke.

“Is that all right?” his voice was a mere murmur.

“Yes,” Fraser’s own hand closed over Ray’s, pressing it to his heart.

Maybe it was the tension of all the unvoiced expectations that kept flitting around Fraser’s mind or it was the strange bed—how sad to think of one’s own bed as ‘strange’, but after almost a month in the hospital the bed at home really felt like the unknown one—but Fraser woke in the middle of the night because his leg was having another spasm.

He tried to keep it as relaxed as possible, but it didn’t really matter any which way. There was nothing he could do to stop it, he would just have to grit his teeth and wait for it to subside again. He’d had them now and again—he should be glad, at least he was getting a reaction from his legs. But he couldn’t control the spasms.

No matter how hard he tried to keep his leg still, he still kicked out, and it didn’t take more than a minute or two for Ray to wake up.

“Wh—” he slurred when Fraser accidentally kicked him. In the hospital there had been no one lying next to him who had to suffer with Fraser through these attacks.

Ray rubbed his eyes and reached for the lamp on the night stand.

“Frase… what’s going on?” he asked blearily and before he had even finished speaking his eyes grew wide as he noticed Fraser’s shaking leg.

“Oh,” he said eloquently. “Wait, they showed me this… this grip…” Ray sat up and reached for Fraser’s leg. He pulled Fraser’s big toe up as far as it could go and held it. Gradually, the spasm died down.

Ray smiled. “See? All good,” he patted Fraser’s leg and snuggled back underneath the covers.

“Thank you,” Fraser said, defeated.

“No problem,” Ray yawned with one hand reaching for the light switch, already half-asleep again.

* * *

Ray stood underneath the spray of the shower and sighed unhappily. This was harder than he had thought. It had been three days now that Fraser had come home and if anything Ray felt he was doing even worse than before.

He just…

The water kept pouring over him; the rushing sound of it unable to drown out his thoughts. The hot water helped to ease the tension in his shoulders and Ray let his head fall forward, offering his neck to the merciless beating of the water.

Ray hadn’t thought Fraser would feel so resentful about his help. Dammit, he was only trying to help! Should he let Fraser break his neck in the attempt to do everything by himself even if it was something as unlikely as getting into the bathtub on his own?

Hell, he got how frustrating this must be for Fraser, but it wasn’t as if they had any choice. Fraser would start physio by the end of the week and things would get better after that.

The way Fraser acted one might think he was trying to get used to a life in the wheelchair.

Ray furiously rubbed the shampoo into his hair. And so much for recapturing the moment or anything. Fraser at the hospital had nothing on distance when it came to Fraser at home. God… he missed Ben… Ray held his head under the spray again to rinse the shampoo off.

Maybe Fraser was so angry at him for trying to help all the time… or it was just that Fraser thought Ray was pushing to get something going between the sheets now that they knew that Fraser was indeed functional… Ray frowned. But he hadn’t made any moves. Not even a shadow of one.

All he wanted was to hold Ben now and again. Share a kiss. He wasn’t trying to get into his pants—hell, he had promised Ben that he wasn’t in it for that and that he didn’t want him home just to do unmentionably wicked things to him.

Ray shut the water off. It was almost as if Ben had fallen back into his depression. But why should he have done that? He was back home, he was about to start physio—he was about to get better for crying out loud! That was no reason to be depressed, was it?

He reached for a towel and swallowed another growl of frustration.

He shouldn’t get mad at Ben… wasn’t as if he did it on purpose, Ray got that. It just— _argh_ —Ray threw the damp towel on the floor only to stoop and snatch it up again with another curse a split second later when he remembered that Fraser couldn’t pick it up and wouldn’t be able to maneuver the wheelchair with it lying on the ground.

He was trying so hard and Fraser was moody and sulky and no matter what Ray tried it always ended up being the wrong thing to do or say.

Ray got dressed and tried to master his frustration while he worked on his hair. Even his hair was being irritable, Ray thought with a frown after his third failed attempt to make it stand up. A bad hair day, of course, why should it have been anything else?

He sighed and then he squared his shoulders and reached into his pockets.

Since he had found them Ray had been carrying the buttons from Fraser’s shirt around with him. Initially, he had simply thought of throwing them away; Fraser had long since replaced the buttons, there was no reason to keep them.

Instead, he had found himself transferring them to each new pair of jeans he wore. Stupid, really, like some kind of lucky charm. But touching them always reminded him of the two of them lying on the floor, naked and laughing, and it… it helped, a little, to remember that.

He emerged from the bathroom and found Fraser in his customary spot at the window, apparently engrossed in Ray’s Hammett book.

“Finished it yet?” Ray asked with a smile.

“Ah, no, not yet,” Fraser explained with a rub of his eyebrow.

“Who’d you think killed Miles?” Ray grinned. Fraser had probably already figured it out. Ray had been really surprised at the end of the book to find out who the murderer was. Then again, that was kind of the point of a detective novel.

Fraser frowned as if he tried to remember something. “Apparently, Miles was shot by his partner,” he said finally.

Now it was Ray’s turn to frown. “Uh, you know that my attention span isn’t all that much to look at and you bet it wasn’t any better when I was a teen, but…” Ray rubbed his neck and looked sideways at Fraser. “You do realize it’s only the police framing Spade for that? I mean his partner gets shot—what? Somewhere on the first five pages, right? You don’t honestly think it was his partner who was responsible, do you?”

Fraser smiled shyly. “Ah, no… I was just—yanking your chain, as you would call it.”

Ray crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Fraser his best cop stare. “Ben, this book has all of 200 pages… I’d take a wild guess and say that you haven’t read further than page 10.”

For a moment, Fraser looked about ready to deny it, but then he sighed resignedly and shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

Ray made a frustrated gesture in the air. “For god’s sake why should you pretend to be reading a book?”

“So that people leave me in peace!” Fraser snapped back with an angry frown on his face.

It took Ray a second to do anything but stare at Fraser. People? He was ‘people’ now?

“I’m sorry that _people_ ,” Ray flung the word back at Fraser like something rotten, “care. Have it your way, I’ll leave you in peace.” Ray shrugged, but it came across like the movement of a boxer about to spar, the distanced equivalent of bumping someone in the shoulder as you walked by.

Fraser’s mouth tightened angrily, but he didn’t say anything and Ray stormed past, grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him.

Dief whined disapprovingly.

“Oh, not you, too,” Fraser said with a frown.

The half-wolf got up from his spot on the couch and moved haughtily into the vicinity of the bedroom.

“Suit yourself,” Fraser muttered, turning back to the window.  
 


	7. Chapter 7

Fraser looked out of the window for a long time. He watched Ray getting into the GTO and driving off, awash with sudden disapproval that Ray would drive when he was mad. But there was nothing he could do to prevent him, was there? He was stuck in the wheelchair—he couldn’t even reach up to open the window to call down to Ray.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Silence. Emptiness. Calm. Fraser opened his eyes again and continued looking out; even though he wasn’t even seeing anything.

It was just looking for the sole reason that his eyes were open. He wasn’t interested in what the people in the street were up to. Frankly, he couldn’t care less.

Even after all the optimistic responses from his tests Fraser still couldn’t use his legs. Of course, the spasms were probably a sign of renewed nerve-activity, but it didn’t change much where his mobility was concerned.

He smiled darkly. Even if he managed to leave the wheelchair behind he might still be depending on crutches for the rest of his life. He supposed that should make it better. At the moment he couldn’t even see what the physio was supposed to accomplish.

Had it felt like this the last time, too? As if he would never be able to walk again?

Had Victoria felt satisfaction when he had gotten shot? ‘Love, hate, it’s all there,’ she had said to him at one point. He wondered…

Could that be love at all? Love and hate lay close to one another; it was probably the most-abused sentence in history, but what about both of them existing simultaneously?

Fraser knew he hadn’t hated her. But images played through his mind of a shattered snow globe, finding Dief shot… and he hadn’t come to the train station to ran away with her, had he? Not initially… he hadn’t planned that at all… until he thought he would never see her again— and then he ran.

Had he hated her for what she had done? No, he shook his head. He had felt too guilty to hate her. Disappointment, yes, that had been the most prominent emotion. And hurt, an ocean of it. And it had all been inflicted with intent. Was that love?

He sighed. He didn’t know anymore. She had been hovering around the fringes of his consciousness ever since the surgery and he wasn’t sure what to think anymore. It had always been about love in his mind. The bullet wound had been his well-deserved punishment for what he had done to her—no, not even to her. He thought she deserved to be delivered to justice for her actions; that was why he couldn’t have let her go. No, it had been his punishment for being able to do this to someone he loved.

What about that second time when she had appeared in Chicago? He tried to remember… picture it as clearly as he could…

…Yes…

He had still loved her when she came back. In a way he had even admired her for the lengths she was willing to go just to bind him to her. There was no crime horrid enough for her to shy away from as long as it would ruin another alternative for him.

Fraser began to laugh quietly. And wasn’t it sad? If she hadn’t done all this… he would have stayed with her. Gladly.

But what she had been doing wasn’t love. She hated him too much to trust him… or maybe she wanted to own him on her own terms, hurt him by making him let her go despite her crimes—even worse, by making him go with her despite them.

He would never know. All he knew was that this wasn’t love. He couldn’t love someone who left him no choice in the matter.

Did that make his current situation better or worse? Breathing was kind of hard to do with all the emotions clogging up his throat. He gripped the armrest of the wheelchair tighter. It didn’t make much difference, did it? Maybe she had achieved what she had tried to accomplish.

Fraser kept sitting at the window lost in thought for a long while. He remembered a German poem by Kaestner about a man who moves up to the uppermost room and closes the door forever. He continues watching the street and the people below from the single window, with no hard feelings that the world had apparently forgotten him, but now and then he would watch the afterglow of the setting sun behind the church steeple and he would wonder if the stream of time never ended anywhere.

After a while he noticed the first flecks of orange in the sky. It was winter; the sun always set early, but… how long had Ray been gone?

A worried frown creased Fraser’s forehead. Ray had been so angry when he had stormed off… he hoped Ray had driven carefully. He hadn’t meant to snap at Ray. None of this was Ray’s fault.

It shouldn’t be Ray’s burden that Fraser needed help with every little thing. He certainly didn’t deserve it that Fraser made it so hard on him. He just didn’t want to need help… Ray’s gentleness made this hard to bear at times.

It was just so painfully obvious how much Ray was trying to help him, even going out of his way to make it seem as if that wasn’t what he was doing.

Like suddenly reaching for a bottle of water and filling a glass with it and then acting as if he had just noticed that this wasn’t carbonated water. So he placed the glass in front of Fraser with a shrug, explaining that Fraser could drink it if he was thirsty and then getting up to get himself another glass.

As if the two labels on the bottles weren’t perfectly different and as if Ray mixed them up all the time. As if he hadn’t done it because Fraser preferred still mineral water.

It grated on his nerves, but it definitely wasn’t Ray’s fault. Fraser knew he should’ve stayed at the hospital… at least Ray knew now what he had signed up for. And Fraser wanted and didn’t want him to see the truth.

* * *

Ray opened the door unsure what to expect. He hoped nothing had happened to Fraser while he was away… it had been irresponsible of him and he had kicked himself in the head more times than he cared to count since he had realized how fatally this mistake could’ve turned out.

What if Fraser had tried another one of his stunts of getting out of the wheelchair by himself? What if he had tried to reach something too high up and the wheelchair had tipped? What if he had needed to go the bathroom while Ray was away? What if there had been a fire in the apartment complex? What if he had been too depressed and had swallowed a wild assortment of pills?—okay, okay, calm down, Kowalski.

He was even more freaked out because it had taken him over an hour before he realized all of this. He’d just been driving a couple of blocks and then he had parked the car, more or less illegally at the curb, and went walking aimlessly around. He didn’t even know why he had taken the car; all he knew was that he wanted to get as far away as possible.

And then, after an hour of walking, a woman in a wheelchair had crossed the street from the other side and suddenly all of those thoughts had sprung up in Ray’s head and he’d started getting really paranoid.

He wanted to call Fraser at home only to realize that he didn’t have his cell with him; it was still lying on the table back at the apartment. So he had driven back as quickly as the Chicago traffic allowed him and by then he had calmed himself down enough to think a bit more reasonably about this.

Fraser was insufferable, but he wasn’t stupid. And there was still Dief at the apartment. Ray hadn’t been gone longer than an hour and a half; Fraser should’ve been fine as far as necessities went during that time. And there hadn’t been a fire in the apartment building for as long as Ray lived there.

If Ray barged in now all worried like a headless chicken they would be right back where this whole thing had started and Fraser would be mad that Ray worried at all, and… Jesus, this was exhausting. Ray needed a break.

As soon as Ray turned onto their street and saw that there was no smoke coming from their building he relaxed a little further. He even managed to duck into the Chinese takeaway restaurant a couple of buildings up the street to get them something for dinner before he hightailed it back to their apartment.

His heart almost dropped into his pants with relief when he found Fraser in the exact same spot where he had left him and apparently none the worse.

Ray felt better now about being mad at Fraser… hard to be mad at someone when you were afraid something had happened to them. But since Fraser was fine there was really no reason to take his passive-aggressive shit.

“Hey…” Ray mumbled as he closed the door. He didn’t wait for a reaction from Fraser, though. Instead, he moved to the kitchen and dumped his bags of Chinese takeout on the counter. Ray tried not to turn to look over the kitchen bar at Fraser. “I brought food, if you’re hungry,” he said over his shoulder in the direction of the window.

Ray heard the movement of the wheelchair before he saw it.

“Ray,” Fraser said quietly.

“Yeah?” Ray asked into the plastic bag in front of him.

There was another bout of wheels moving. Suddenly, Fraser’s hand closed around Ray’s.

Ray turned to look at Fraser holding his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Fraser said.

Ray wanted so much to stay mad, he was still hurting as if someone had mottled his body with bruises, and he wanted to give Fraser a piece of his mind, but none of this would be fair. Ben couldn’t help it.

“I know,” Ray said instead. It didn’t make the hurt go away or anything, but he would take what he could get. “Let’s eat, okay?” he asked with an attempt at a smile. “You must be starving as well.”

The evening passed quietly mostly because Ray couldn’t face another argument and at the moment it seemed safer not to say anything.

Fraser was pretty quiet himself and Ray was really starting to fear that they were back at the depression stage of things and he didn’t know what he could do to make it better.

After the second time Fraser nodded off on the couch Ray touched his leg and couldn’t help but smile when Fraser registered the touch.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“Ah, yes, I’m rather tired,” Fraser admitted with a yawn.

“No problem,” Ray said. He pushed the coffee table away and positioned the wheelchair. He bent down so that Fraser could sling an arm over his neck and waited until Fraser had a firm grip on one of the armrests with his free hand before he straightened to heave him up.

They did the same thing in reverse when they reached the bedroom and Ray helped to get Fraser settled.

“You can call if you need anything, right?” Ray asked carefully.

“Aren’t you joining me?” Fraser asked, surprised and a little hesitant.

“I—later, I will later,” Ray mumbled. He just… he couldn’t face anymore rejection today and he didn’t want to find out if today was another one of those nights where it was mostly Ray holding on to Fraser… or worse, if Fraser moved away from his touch. He couldn’t—he really couldn’t take this. Not tonight.

“Sleep well,” Ray said and switched the lights off.

Ray went back into the living room and considered opening a beer. In the end, however, he figured that he was already maudlin enough and if he added alcohol to the mix he might just as well end up crying and that would be more than he could handle.

* * *

Fraser didn’t feel at all equipped to begin with his physical therapy. He kept his thoughts to himself, though. It wasn’t as if he had a choice in this and Ray seemed to be really looking forward to it.

They moved along the familiar hospital corridors and were met by a rather large brunette who introduced herself as Linda.

“I’m only filling in for Craig today,” she smiled at Fraser. “He’ll be your physical therapist over the next few months. He’s still on vacation, though, but I’ll promise you we will get this done just as well.”

Fraser nodded politely and Ray promised to pick him up an hour later.

It was like being an infant again—only that you weren’t consciously aware what an odious task learning to walk was when you were a child. He remembered the exercises, lying on his back, his leg in a sling, just pulling it close with the help of a handle—and he could also remember how frustrating it had been.

Linda was chatty and she seemed to have an opinion on just about anything, but she made no comment as to Fraser’s condition or what she thought his recovery chances were. It was only fair, Fraser supposed, how could she guarantee anything at such an early stage?

It was embarrassing how exhausting such a little exercise was. Fraser felt as if he had run a marathon… he’d used to be in such good shape… and he wasn’t getting any younger. He knew that without everybody constantly telling him that his recovery would in all probability take longer than the last time. He had been about 30 when he had been shot… that was years ago. Muscles lost their definition much quicker now, it was harder to achieve the same flexibility he had had before, and his body didn’t recuperate as fast as it had when he was younger.

He knew all that. But it didn’t make it easier to accept his body’s failure. Ray Vecchio had the worst aim on this planet, he thought without any real bite. Fraser was glad that Ray had decided to stay in Florida for longer than originally planned. He didn’t want to put Ray through the guilt of shooting him a second time.

It was a strange parallel that, not so long ago, Ray himself had been in the hospital with a bullet that wouldn’t come out. Just like last time when Ray had gotten shot just when Fraser had been on the mend.

No doubt Ray Vecchio would find it amusing… in his usual exasperated way probably.

He just hoped that his friend would fare better with his hidden bullet than Fraser had.

It seemed to be the hand of fate that one of his Rays always had to suffer alongside whenever Fraser got hurt. If he could change one thing it would be that. And his Ray was probably hurting more than Ray Vecchio had to suffer during Fraser’s time in the hospital.

There just seemed to be so many expectations that he couldn’t meet… and, of course, Ray didn’t even voice most of them. Fraser frowned sadly. But Ray’s emotions… and thoughts… were written all over his face and body if you knew him well.

Fraser knew that Ray was an accomplished undercover police man; he had even heard a few stories about some of Ray’s undercover jobs, but his talent didn’t seem to extend to dealing with people he loved. Ray was never able to hide behind any of his personas, not for long, when it came to love.

It had been painfully obvious in Ray’s dealings with Stella and Fraser knew every expression on that face—even the fake ones.

Years of yearning and not being able to reach out for what one most wanted could do that.

So, yes, Fraser could read it in Ray’s body… how much he wanted… how much he hoped… how much he cared…

And Fraser was failing him so spectacularly.

He would have loved to tell Ray how much he wanted to give all of that back to him, but he was afraid that if he told Ray how little progress he was really making that Ray might give up hope as well.

* * *

Ray sat down on the bed and pulled Ben’s pillow close. He looked around and didn’t know what was more depressing, that everything looked just like it should or that nothing was like it should be.

It was the bed in which he and Fraser slept, but it certainly wasn’t _their_ bed anymore. The same could go for the couch or just about any place in this damn apartment. They might inhabit the same space, but they sure weren’t in it together.

He wanted Ben back. He wasn’t even sure if he knew what kissing him felt like anymore. Fraser just seemed to be in a different space; quiet and withdrawn and when Ray touched him for no reason other than that he wanted to feel Ben it seemed to make him uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable? Ben? Ray wanted to laugh. For the first few months when they had finally cottoned on to the fact that they weren’t alone in this attraction thing it had been difficult to get Fraser to stop touching him. Ben had never shied away from Ray’s touch, he’d seemed to soak it up, and it had always produced a smile on his face.

Ray didn’t expect any smiles, dammit. He didn’t even expect him to be happy or anything. Just… Ray just wished he didn’t have to feel so alone in this.

Didn’t stuff like the surgery Fraser had gone through change people? Isn’t that what people said—they even made movies out of it, how you were a changed person afterwards? Maybe Fraser just didn’t feel the same about Ray anymore and didn’t have the heart to tell him.

Ray swallowed quickly and shook his head. No way…

He wanted to blame it all on the meds, but some bit of doubt always crept in anyway. The pills didn’t make one stop loving someone, right? Oh, and Ray was so not going there. If he started to think now that Fraser wasn’t… that he didn’t… he might just suffer a nervous breakdown.

Tiredly, he rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the clock. It was already time to fetch Fraser from the hospital… somehow he couldn’t see how physio could’ve improved his mood.

Fraser seemed mostly tired when Ray went to meet him, though. Linda asked Ray to stay for the next session so that Craig could show him a few exercises that Ray could do with Fraser at home and Ray thanked her and told her that he would be there on Monday.

After they had eaten and Ray had helped Fraser onto the couch, Ray sat down next to him and studied his hands for a moment, trying to make up his mind.

“Want me to massage your legs?” Ray asked finally, as casually as he could.

Fraser didn’t answer immediately and Ray’s heart sank another notch.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Fraser said.

“I know, but I want to,” Ray replied firmly and moved closer to stretch Ben’s legs out over his lap. Fraser heaved himself up a little so that he could sit a little sideways.

Gently, Ray began rubbing Fraser’s muscles. They were probably hurting after the strain of the physio, Ray thought. He could at least give that much back. Fraser groaned softly and let his head rest against the back of the couch.

Ray watched him and his heart squeezed tightly. He was so painfully in love with this man… there was really nothing he could do. Ray thought of the buttons in his pocket and leaned forward, very slowly, and then he kissed Fraser.

Oh. Oh.. Ben… lips so soft and pliant… Ray opened his lips a tiny bit to slip his tongue into Ben’s mouth. Ray felt himself running out of air, but he didn’t want to break the kiss.

But then Fraser pulled back a little, breaking the kiss, and giving Ray a small smile. For a second Ray expected him to come back for another kiss, but Fraser made no move and Ray got the message. Slowly, he pulled back himself. Mr. Excess-Lung-Capacity couldn’t have had a problem with his air supply yet.

Ray reached for the remote control and switched the television on in a simple excuse to have something to concentrate on because if he opened his mouth now to ask Ben what was going on he might just break apart. He blinked fast a couple of times and tried to breathe as evenly as possible.

* * *

Ray might have had some hopes for the next physio appointment, thinking it would help to learn a few exercises. Maybe it would give them something to do together?

He couldn’t help the blow to his confidence, though, when they were introduced to Craig. Gorgeous, was the first word that sprung to mind. The guy had the same hair color Ray had, but that was about the limit of their similarities. For one thing, the guy had really broad shoulders; he looked like someone who’d been on a rowing team back in school. He also had easily 3 inches on Ray and almost as stunning eyes as Fraser had.

Ray also couldn’t help but notice the appraising look with which Craig took in Fraser from head to foot. Ray swallowed a snarl. Sure, half of Chicago was in love with Fraser, why should this be any different? Of course, the guy who would be touching Fraser for the oncoming months had to be gorgeous _and_ had to have the hots for Fraser.

They all shook hands and Ray saw the small smile that Fraser bestowed on his therapist when their hands met. It was probably stupid and just in Ray’s head, but given their frequency Ray was a little territorial when it came to Ben’s smiles.

Craig waved them into the training room.

“So, you’re the best buddy that gets to get on his nerves with exercising those muscles at home?” Craig asked with a smile at Ray and pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked more like someone who had studied history or literature than someone who worked with his hands, Ray thought. Probably just the stupid, wavy hair that created that impression, Ray added bitterly.

“I’m his partner,” Ray said with an edge.

“Ah, right, you’re both police officers, I remember,” Craig said and Ray wasn’t quick enough to add that they were ‘partners’ in every sense of the word before Craig turned to Fraser and asked him after his well-being.

“Good, good,” Craig clapped his hands. “Now, let me show you how to do a few of these exercises.”

Ray followed the instructions beautifully, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just his own imagination or if Ben did indeed seem more relaxed with Craig than he had with Linda?

“Very good,” Craig praised them when they had gone through the last of the exercises. “Now, I know that you will feel like Don Quixote fighting against those windmills,” Craig addressed Fraser and if that wasn’t another small smile on Fraser’s lips then Ray didn’t know his own name anymore. “But this will get easier, I assure you,” Craig continued.

“Mr. Johnson—”

“Please, Craig.”

“Very well, Craig, I’m familiar with the procedure; I had to undergo the same treatment a few years ago. I do appreciate the sentiment, though.”

“An old veteran, eh?” Craig smiled. He turned to Ray. “Well, Benton and I will do a little more practice. Why don’t you get a coffee and I’ll get him back to you in one piece in, say, half an hour?”

“Sure, great,” Ray said and hoped that his grimace could’ve been taken for a smile.

Ray spent an extremely uncomfortable 30 minutes at the hospital cafeteria. When he came back he heard laughter coming from the training room. It was only Craig’s laughter, but still… if Fraser was witty enough to make the guy laugh he was apparently more relaxed than Ray had seen him in weeks.

Ray should’ve felt better about this—maybe even happy for Fraser. All he could think of, however, was that Fraser was able to relax around some other guy while he was tense and irritable with Ray.

Ray knocked on the door and came in finding Craig with his hands still on Fraser’s left leg. It felt like a punch to the gut to see someone touching Ben so casually when Ray had been fighting for every little touch over the last few weeks. Of course, it was a therapist and he was supposed to be touching Fraser— Ray just hadn’t thought it would hurt him to watch it. Maybe he would’ve reacted just as badly had it been the woman from last time, maybe it was worse because Craig was a stunning guy. All Ray knew was that it made him want to shout ‘unfair.’

At least he was the one who got to take Ben home. For however little that counted.

* * *

Around noon the alarm on Ray’s cell went off. Fraser sighed in resignation and Ray smiled apologetically as he shook out the contents of the compartment of the pill organizer that held Fraser’s noon dosage.

Ray had been delighted when he had discovered this neat way of keeping everything organized—probably a first in Ray’s life, Fraser assumed.

Fraser took the pills and swallowed. Ray smiled at him and took the empty glass from him. When he had turned around to place everything back on the table, Fraser reached into his mouth to pull the pills back out. By the time Ray had turned to face him again, the pills had vanished in Fraser’s pocket.

He knew it would worry Ray if he didn’t take them, but they made him depressed and he had wondered if a change in the medication had caused his… relapse. It was a mere experiment and he could deal with the muscle spasms. It had only been a day so far, though, so he couldn’t say if it was helping.

Ray offered to do a few of his exercises with him if Fraser was bored, but he didn’t feel up to it. He was too tired and he felt stressed out just thinking about it. Ray looked rather upset at his refusal, but Fraser really couldn’t face it—besides, what did one day matter in the grand scheme of things? Fraser sighed. He’d had two weeks of physical therapy already and couldn’t tell of any improvement. He hardly believed that one more exercise would make much difference.

Ray had taken up asking him about his physio, but even though Craig was a very capable therapist and he made an effort of being entertaining Fraser couldn’t say he enjoyed talking about it anymore than he enjoyed having to go through it. It was just another hour in which Fraser struggled against a mostly resisting body—what did Ray expect him to say? It was pointless to ask after any kind of progress and Fraser didn’t know what else Ray wanted to hear.

Fraser had another bad muscle spasm in the evening, but thankfully Ray was in the shower at that time. Fraser gritted his teeth and waited it out.

His mood didn’t lift over the course of the evening, though. Fraser had enough common sense to realize that he was irritable and tried to keep out of Ray’s way—something that’s rather difficult to accomplish when you’re in a wheelchair and depending on someone else’s assistance; even more so when you’re sharing the same apartment.

Unfortunately, his silence always had the negative effect of making Ray worried and Ray had the tendency to talk more when he was worried which in turn made it even harder for Fraser not to voice his annoyance.

He let Ray help him into bed unusually early just to find some peace. He didn’t know what made him so irritable today, but since he could take his pick from at least ten reasons Fraser didn’t bother finding it out. He was probably just tired.

The fact that he had to go through another hour of therapy didn’t help improve his mood either the next morning. Ray’s helping hands were constantly in the way and he needed it quiet—this was all drumming against his skull and it was driving him out of his mind—he needed to be left alone—

Ray froze with Fraser’s sweater in his hands.

Oh hell. Judging from Ray’s reaction that last part had not been inside of Fraser’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” Ray mumbled. He handed Fraser the sweater. “I—I’ll go make breakfast.” Ray vanished through the door as quickly as if he had been able to go through solid wood.

Fraser sighed. At least it was quiet in his head now.

Ray was quiet on their way to the hospital and Fraser was grateful for it. He knew he should apologize for his outburst this morning, but he was too tired for this conversation at the moment. He needed all of his energy to concentrate on the upcoming therapy session.

* * *

“Could I talk to you for a second?” Craig asked Ray after Fraser’s session was over. “I’ll only keep him a minute, Benton.”

Fraser nodded and moved outside in the direction of the entrance hall.

“What’s up?” Ray asked. He was exhausted, he was hurting, he was worried—he just couldn’t take any more shit.

Craig’s expression hardened.

“I’m not sure if you are aware under how much pressure Benton is at the moment—”

Ray gaped at him. The guy had to be kidding him. Who did he think took care of Ben 24/7?

“I just want you to know that it isn’t making it any better if you put your expectations on top of his own; I can assure you that Ben is trying as hard as he can. You are probably only trying to help, but if you push him too much he won’t be able to make any form of progress—”

“I’m—I’m not—I,” Ray fumbled to explain himself. “I’m not putting any pressure on him—I—I’m trying to be patient, okay? I—”

“Mr. Kowalski, Ray, I’m sure that it seems that way to you and I’m sure you have only Benton’s best interest at heart. But it’s been clear to me during today’s session that Benton is under a lot of stress at the moment and very short-tempered. I’m not saying that you are directly responsible for it,” he explained with a placating gesture as Ray opened his mouth again.

“However, it is my duty to look after the well-being of my patients and it’s vitally important for Benton’s recuperation that he can do that at his own pace and without any pressure from outside. I just want you to give him a little more room.”

“I’m trying to,” Ray almost shouted.

Craig’s smile was sympathetic. “I believe you and I trust you that you will heed what I’ve said. Just relax a little; he will come around in his own time. I know what I’m talking about,” he said gently. “Take it easy on him and I’ll see you again on Thursday.”

He patted Ray on the shoulder, took his clipboard and made his way back along the hallway.

Ray leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to swallow the hurt. That was a direct hit to the heart, Ray thought as he tried to keep it together.

More room? How should he give Ben any more room? He hardly touched him, he didn’t ask about the feeling in his legs, he didn’t try to push him into doing any exercises, he—Ray swallowed around a tight throat.

He shouldn’t have kept asking Ben about his physical therapy, probably. Ray sighed miserably. He’d just been… he’d just been jealous of Craig, he couldn’t help himself. And now it had to be Craig who told him that it was all Ray’s fault in the first place that Ben was so cranky all the time and… what else could Ray do?

Slowly, Ray balled his hand into a fist and drove it into the wall. Pain exploded bright and clear behind his eyelids. The wall had a small dent—whatever they had used to build this apparently hadn’t been designed to withstand crude force. Which was probably the only thing that had saved his hand.

Ray considered his throbbing knuckles. The skin had cracked in a few places, but he didn’t seem to have broken anything. He shook his hand out.

He stood there for a moment longer, trying to breathe through the pain.

When he felt a little more in control he joined Fraser in the entrance hall. Fraser was almost half-asleep in the wheelchair. The physio must’ve knocked the stuffing out of him.

Ray smiled sadly. Couldn’t he do anything right?

They made it home and Ray helped Fraser out of his sweater and the sweatpants and into bed for a nap. Tired and weary Ray left the bedroom to clean up. Having Fraser in a wheelchair at home really meant that Ray had to pick up after himself. He didn’t mind… just now he would’ve preferred wallowing in misery instead.

He put their breakfast stuff away and went to the bathroom to sift through their clothes. His t-shirt got thrown in the hamper and he folded the sweater Fraser had worn to therapy. He reached for the sweatpants that Fraser had been wearing this morning and decided they could do with a wash as well.

Ray reached into the pockets to make sure nothing ended up in the washer that didn’t belong there and made a puzzled face when something small went bouncing over the bathroom tiles.

He crouched down to figure out what had been hidden inside of Fraser’s pants and frowned when he came face to face with two small capsules. Confused, he held them in front of his face. Those were the pills Fraser should’ve taken this morning.

But… Ray had seen him take them… apparently, Fraser had hitherto unknown talents. Unswallowing pills seemed to be one of them— damn it, Ray should’ve known that. There had been this Vecchio file from way back, something about a mental asylum, and Fraser had managed to smuggle the pills out—whatever they had tried to feed him.

He hadn’t thought of that.

How long had Fraser been skipping on his medication?

Fraser was too resourceful to have hidden them inside of the apartment. He’d probably thrown them out on one of their walks—if he’d done it before, that was. His sleep on the drive back had probably kept him from getting rid of the incriminating evidence this time.

Ray took a deep breath. He really had too much on his plate. He threw the pants into the hamper and went into the living room to get the phone. He sifted through the cards in the bowl next to the phone and came up with the one from Fraser’s doc at the hospital.

“Yes, hello? I’d like to speak to Dr. Parker.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Fraser woke up slowly; his head hurt and he didn’t feel all that well. When he opened his eyes he found Ray sitting in a chair next to the bed, leafing through Hammett’s book.

“Hey there,” Ray said quietly when he noticed Fraser stirring.

“Hello,” Fraser mumbled. He wanted to go back to sleep. Before he was even fully awake, his right leg started to tremble. Ray was out of his seat immediately and did his little trick again so that the tremor stopped almost as soon as it had begun.

Ray sighed with what sounded like annoyance and sat back down in his chair.

“Can you get dressed?” Ray asked softly.

Fraser frowned; he really didn’t want to get up.

“I want to talk to you and I don’t wanna take advantage for that, all right?” Ray elaborated. “So, you’re up to it?”

“Yes,” Fraser said. He wasn’t up for lengthy conversations, he thought irritably.

Ray was quiet while he let Fraser get dressed as much as he could by himself and then assisted with the rest.

Fraser moved the wheelchair outside the bedroom and into the living room and Ray grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and sat down heavily.

“I found these in your sweats,” Ray sighed and held up two small pills.

Surprise registered on Fraser face for a second before he could help it and Ray smiled savagely at him.

“How long have you been skipping them?” Ray asked nonchalantly.

Fraser bit his lip. Ray wouldn’t like the answer to this one. “This is the third day,” he admitted in a scratchy voice.

Ray looked up and seemed to count something in his head. Then he nodded.

“Fits the pattern. You’re going through withdrawal,” Ray explained. “The cranky attitude, the mood swings, the headaches—stop me when you’ve heard this before?” Ray said and there was an edge to his voice.

“Ray,” Fraser tried.

“No, Ben… no.” Ray looked years older. Fraser had never seen him this defeated.

“Do you know what?” Ray said in a thick voice. “I’ve thought it was me, okay? Your damn therapist as good as told me that it was all my doing that you were in such bad shape… what the hell, Frase?”

“Ray, I—I couldn’t stand how they made me feel—”

“And you couldn’t talk to me?—no, you know what? This isn’t going to work. You’re going to take your meds and we’re going to talk when they kick in.”

Fraser’s brows drew together.

Ray showed his teeth. “It’s either those pills or we’re going to the hospital and they’ll give you something you won’t be able to spit out.”

Fraser felt like snapping at Ray again that he didn’t have the slightest inkling of how this felt, but the world of sadness on Ray’s face stopped him before he could utter one syllable.

He held his hand out and Ray dropped the pills into it. Fraser threw them into his mouth and swallowed.

Very quietly, Ray said: “If you love me, if you have any feeling left for me, I’m begging you, really swallow them this time…” he was hoarse and Fraser couldn’t remember if Ray had ever in his life sounded so sad.

Fraser had already swallowed them, but he told him anyway.

“Thank you,” Ray murmured.

He stood up. “I’m going out for a while now… take care of yourself, please?”

Fraser nodded, wide-eyed.

The door clicked into the lock behind Ray.

Fraser knew the exact moment when the pills kicked in. He felt woozy at first, almost high, and bit by bit a feeling of calm settled over him. It was as if his head was clear for the first time in days.

Oh God. Ray.

The way he had snapped at Ray those last few days, Fraser was swept up by a wave of shame. It had been an experiment at Ray’s expense and it hadn’t even helped the way Fraser had thought it might.

He hadn’t felt depressed, but lashing out at Ray for everything he did wasn’t better. Rather the opposite.

Ray came back almost exactly an hour after he had left.

Fraser looked anxiously at the opening door. When Ray saw his face he smiled.

“Feeling better?” he asked as he toed off his boots and hung up his jacket.

“I’m so sorry, Ray,” Fraser whispered, ashamed.

Ray shrugged, heartbreakingly careless, and took his seat on the abandoned kitchen chair again.

He was quiet for a moment and Fraser didn’t know what else he could say. Keeping on saying he was sorry wouldn’t make one bit of difference.

“I can’t go through that again, Frase,” Ray explained quietly. He looked up at Fraser and there was so much pain on his face that Fraser winced.

“I—I really can’t. I thought… I thought I was the sole cause of it… and I know I’m not dealing so well with all of this, but… god, trust me I’m trying,” Ray wrung his hands helplessly.

“Ray, you’re much more than I could hope for—” Fraser said urgently.

Ray shook his head. “Please—please don’t try to make me feel better, ‘kay? I know you don’t…” Ray took a deep breath and focused on his feet. “I know you don’t wanna kiss me or touch me or anything and I…” Ray took another shuddering breath, “I can… I swear I can live with that, but I can’t deal…” Ray wiped hastily across his eyes. “I can’t deal with you ruining yourself on purpose, okay, I just can’t and I don’t know how to stop you and I—” Ray’s shoulders shook and didn’t stop.

“Ray…” Fraser whispered, shocked. How could Ray think that he didn’t want his touch?

“And I… god, Ben, I love you so damn much… and I just can’t get this right… it’s—it’s just like Spade says in the book you’re too damn stubborn to read ‘I’ll go ahead blindfolded if that’s necessary, but I can’t do it without you having my back’… shit,” Ray cursed, wiping furiously at his cheek.

It was only one push with his hands and then Fraser was right at Ray’s side. Sitting in the wheelchair had never been more frustrating than now when all he wanted to do was pull Ray close.

He took Ray’s hands in his own and raised them to his lips. He pressed feverish kisses to them, murmuring Ray’s name again and again.

Ray couldn’t seem to stop shaking. He drew another shaky breath, angrily wiping another tear track away. “I’ll stick with you… okay… even if… you know,” Ray gave him a brave smile, a fool’s smile, “even if your feelings have changed or something… I can’t… I can’t help it,” Ray smiled again and Fraser couldn’t take it anymore. He reached up, throwing his arms around Ray’s neck and he pulled, until he could kiss Ray and Ray’s arms came up to hold him, an iron grip that made it impossible for him to crash down.

Ray tasted of tears and sadness and Fraser didn’t stop kissing him until he couldn’t taste either anymore.

He wobbled on his legs and Ray stood up, helping him back into the wheelchair. But Fraser didn’t release his grip around his neck.

“I… I was afraid I had gotten your hopes up for nothing,” Fraser murmured and Ray shook his head, not understanding what Fraser meant.

“That time at the hospital… when you washed me…”

Ray pulled back a little to look at Fraser.

The urge to pull at his collar was overwhelming, but Fraser wasn’t willing to release Ray.

“It was a mere aberration, a fluke, a one-time occurrence… I—I tried,” a blush suffused his cheeks. “I tried to repeat it, but it didn’t work. I’m… I’m sorry, Ray.”

Ray was shaking his head in confusion.

“That’s why you wouldn’t let me touch you? You were afraid I’d find out and—what?” Ray frowned at him.

“I’m—” Fraser sighed unhappily. “I’m not the man to provide what you need,” Fraser said carefully.

“You are the most stubborn man,” Ray managed to get out in a hoarse whisper. “You’re more than man enough, trust me.”

* * *

That night, they went to bed at the same time. Ray helped Fraser out of the wheelchair and when he had settled down, Ray gathered his courage.

“Can I undress you?” he prepared himself for another rejection. He really vowed not to take it personally.

Fraser bit his lip and then he nodded.

Ray smiled at him and helped him to get out of his shirt and then out of his boxer shorts. Ray wasn’t wearing anything more than his boxer briefs, but he followed suit and slid into bed next to Fraser.

Ray noticed Fraser’s tense posture and squeezed his arm. “Relax,” he murmured and hit the light; learning to touch each other in the dark, just like the very first time when they were still looking for the hand of Franklin.

He found Ben’s lips in the dark and felt his warm body underneath his own.

It wasn’t long before other parts of Ray’s body wanted in on the action. He couldn’t help it he’d had a hard-on for Benton Fraser for longer than he could remember.

A shaking hand found its way between their bodies while they were kissing and Ray broke the kiss, gasping, “no, don’t, Ben.” Gently, Ray took his hand and raised it to his lips. “This isn’t about that.”

“But—” Fraser began and was interrupted by Ray’s lips

“Nuh-uh. You’re thinking too much.”

Ray smiled in the dark when he felt Ben’s hand settle on his neck instead.

* * *

The tightness around Ray's eyes had receded a bit, Fraser noticed the next morning as he studied him. He'd been so busy thinking what his physical handicap meant for Ray he hadn't even considered the emotional ramifications of what he might be putting him through.

Ray placed the pills and a glass of water in front of Fraser and gathered their plates up to carry them to the sink.

Fraser had the pills already halfway to his mouth when he realized that Ray wasn't watching whether or not he took them. Frowning, Fraser took his hand down again. "Aren't you going to make sure I take the meds?" he asked, surprised.

Ray stopped on his way to the sink and placed the plates on the kitchen counter. He turned back and crossed his arms. Slowly, Ray smiled and reached up to tap twice against his temple with two fingers. "Blindfolded, Frase, blindfolded." He turned back to the plates and Fraser was left staring at him.

To be responsible for Ray's trust like that... he had expected to have lost his trust, at least to have damaged it to a painful extent. And he would have understood; Ray had every right not to believe in him anymore.

Ray...

Fraser stared down at his hand and placed the pills on his tongue. He took a sip of water and swallowed, feeling the capsules sliding down his throat. Of course he had Ray's back, they were— Fraser almost stuttered over the word. Partners, they were partners. His head flew up again to burn a hole into the spot Ray had vacated a second ago.

Ray came back to the table— and he must've seen the look of wonder on Fraser's face, or the gratitude, he couldn't tell which would be the most prominent emotion written on his features, for Ray rubbed his neck in embarrassment with a vulnerable smile on his lips when he noticed Fraser's expression.

He had to pull himself together—even if it was just to make this easier on Ray. He would never be able to repay him for what he had gone through on his behalf. There was so much kindness in Ray that people never knew about… if he could preserve one thing in this world it would be this. Ray was willing to sacrifice so much and he didn’t even think twice about it. A fool’s heart.

Fraser smiled. No one but a fool would put up with him, that much was certain.

* * *

Ray wasn’t looking forward to seeing Craig after their last encounter, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Craig greeted them and took one look at Ben, noticing his calm demeanor and the small smile, before he gave Ray a pointed look.

Ray bristled. As if any of that was due to Craig’s hobby-shrink advice.

Judging from the way Craig treated Fraser one could think it was his own damn achievement; stupid toothpaste smile and call-me-Clark-Kent glasses… like some damn throw-back from the 50s. Ray preferred the 90s, thank you very much.

“Ray?” Fraser asked with a frown, turning his head to look at him.

“Wh—oh, sure…” What was the question again? Ah, yeah, the time when he was supposed to pick up Ben.

Craig smiled at Ray and placed a hand on Fraser’s shoulder.

“Well, Benton, shall we get started?”

Ray waited until they were out of earshot before he mimicked Craig and his stupid “Well, Benton, shall we get started?”

He wondered what they talked about during their hour. Did Craig comment on Fraser’s nice thigh muscles or his strong arms or was he happy enough just running his hands all over Ben’s body?

Damn, Ray cursed himself. It just wasn’t fair that the guy got to touch Ben so casually all the time when every simple touch meant so much to Ray. And getting there had been such a hard battle… now they were behaving as if it were their first month together.

Ray frowned. No… come to think of it, they weren’t. Actually, they had been touching all over as soon as it had been clear that rejection wasn’t on the menu. He grinned. Thinking back it was almost hilarious how much time it had taken them to grasp that—personal space, what was that?

…well, Ray was beginning to find out. He sighed a little sadly. He sure had no idea if they could ever go back to that stage where touching each other was the most natural thing. It was okay; at least they were touching again. He wouldn’t give up on that for the world.

It was probably just embarrassment. Ray wasn’t really sure if his own arousal made Fraser uncomfortable but he would take a wild guess in any case and claim that Ben was embarrassed for not producing what he had termed ‘the desired result.’ Ray grinned fondly in his coffee.

Ben was such a dork sometimes. Freak, he thought affectionately.

Thoughtfully, Ray stared at the ceiling. He’d simply taken Fraser’s word for gospel when he told him that the wet dream at the hospital was some kind of freak accident. An aberration, he’d said. Ray tapped against his paper cup of coffee, lost in thought. How did he know?

Slowly, Ray stood and drained the rest of his coffee. Time to see a man about a horse… and he wasn’t going to find this particular horse in the rest room.

Ray was still five minutes early before Fraser’s session was supposed to be over. He wished he knew what they were talking about. He wouldn’t put it past Craig to make some reference to what he had understood as a failure on Ray’s part in his treatment of Fraser.

But Ben emerged from the room with the same tired expression he always did and he didn’t seem ticked off at Ray or worried or anything of the sort.

Ray was glad when they could leave Craig behind at the hospital. Ray navigated the streets with more patience than usual to spare Fraser’s nerves. Casually, Ray rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw.

“That Craig’s a pretty good-looking guy,” he said with a sidelong glance.

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. “Ah, yes, I suppose so.”

“You two get along well?”

“As good as can be imagined I would say. I’m afraid he has to do most of the talking since the exercises don’t exactly leave me much breathing room for conversation. He’s very entertaining, though. I’m sure you would appreciate his humor.”

“Yeah, I bet…” Ray mumbled. “…so, what does he tell you to pass the time?” Ray appeared fascinated by the road ahead of him.

He heard the smile in Ben’s voice when he answered. “Ah, we share the same taste in literature for the most part. Craig has a very good memory and he knows quite a few passages from Don Quixote by heart. It’s very nice of him to be so invested in his therapy sessions.”

The road spelled gloom and doom, Ray could read it in the median already. His heart fluttered nervously in his chest. Just what Ray needed; Fraser’s therapist couldn’t just be a dumb athlete, no, he had to have a whole library stashed away in his brain on top of the Herculean body, too. Ray couldn’t compete with that…

Ben was probably glad to have these sessions; he was probably bored to death by now having no one but Ray for conversation for weeks on end. And they all knew that Ray wasn’t the guy who was friends with words.

Ray counted the road signs they passed. He didn’t manage to get further than 10 before the thought he had tried to keep out barged in anyway: Maybe he was just scared that Ben would be relieved by some company other than himself.

He gnawed on his thumb for a second. What did he want to do? Lock him away forever? Ray took a deep breath and smiled at Fraser.

“Hey, now that you can get dressed in proper clothes and you don’t fall asleep all the time anymore, maybe you want to, dunno, get some visitors? –Frannie has been asking for you all the time and I think—actually I think Turnbull made something for you, I would be careful with that, but, yeah, I think he’d like to come by as well… if you want that.”

Fraser was quiet for a heartbeat. “That’s a good idea.”

Ray’s heart quivered again. How could you feel relieved and afraid at the same time, Ray wondered? It was a weird feeling, but Ben wanting to have visitors had to be a good thing and Ray desperately wanted him to get better.

* * *

Fraser looked out of the window and sighed. Constable Turnbull and Francesca were due in the next half an hour and he still wasn’t sure if he was up to it.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt Ray’s feelings, but he had still so much to handle with the varying emotions his medication caused and even completing simple tasks, like assisting Ray with getting him dressed, drained him.

No, Ray was right. He couldn’t hide away forever and they had only just begun weaning him from some of the more aggressive medication and it would still be awhile before he would feel back to his usual self. If he still knew how that felt.

At least the depression was receding with the change of his pills so he wouldn’t shock any of his friends with his moody appearance.

Fraser smiled a little when Frannie and Turnbull arrived together. He really needn’t have worried; they were busier checking each other’s expressions and sneaking glances than counting the lines of worry on Fraser’s face.

It was clear that they cared very much about him and that they were relieved to finally see him with their own eyes, but it was obvious to Fraser that there were simply bigger emotions that took up most of their thought processes.

Ray was noticing it too, if his grin and his eye-rolling were any indicator. Then again Ray had tried to warn him that things had progressed romantically between those two.

Turnbull had indeed made him something. He unwrapped the package carefully. It felt like something solid, and oddly shaped—the scent of wood wafted up when he pulled the paper aside—of course, a wood carving.

Ray seemed to be ready to intervene should it be something alive or harmful. Fraser bit his lip not to smile at him.

Fraser stared at the carving in his hands completely at a loss . It looked… well… he turned it around in his hands. It looked like a hybrid between a seal and a—a polar bear, maybe. A polar bear with 8 legs.

 “Ah, that’s very…” Fraser tried to come up with the right word and Ray’s incredulous look didn’t help matters, but Turnbull was blissfully unaware of their confusion and beamed at Fraser before he had finished searching for an appropriate adjective.

“It’s a tardigrade,” he gushed.

“Yes, of course.” Fraser smiled suddenly. The likeness was actually very astute. He just hadn’t expected the carving to be of a so much larger scale than what it depicted—it was usually the other way around. A tardigrade was only about 1 mm big, but Turnbull was already right in the middle of explaining it.

“Tardigrades, also known as waterbears, are the most durable animals on the planet,” Turnbull explained excitedly to an apprehensive Ray.

“They are known to withstand extreme temperatures—some can survive temperatures close to absolute zero—that’s -459 °F! And they can get by without water for almost a decade—there have even been studies in which tardigrades were left in outer space and survived,” Turnbull went on with unbridled enthusiasm.

Ray was grinning from ear to ear by now, looking from the waterbear to Fraser and back again as if to say: aren’t they the spitting image of each other?

Frannie was full of talk about the life and chaos at the 2-7, complaining loudly about Welsh’s bad attitude. “Honestly, since you two left he’s been unbearable. Oh—he was in a really good mood for a bit,” she amended when she saw their twin expressions of disbelief. Well, Ray’s expression of disbelief. Fraser hoped that he was a little more circumspect.

“Seems now that he had adapted to the freak cases coming his way he’s now unsettled by the lack of them.” She shrugged. “I guess he’s going to be really glad when you come back to work. He’s probably dusting Ray’s chair off as we speak.”

Ray grinned and shook his head. Fraser watched him and hoped it didn’t show how much he feared that he would never get to join Ray again.

In about a week, Ray would have to go back to work. Of course he had to; Ray could hardly stay at home with him for months.

But… he had come to rely on Ray’s presence and when Ray went back to work then he would be alone with his thoughts and no one to ground him in reality. And there was also a nagging voice whispering that Ray going back to his normal life and job would make him take new measure of his situation… and that Fraser would be found wanting.

Ray had made it clear – more than clear even – that his heart hadn’t changed. Getting his old life back, though, would show him that there was more to life than taking care of Fraser and maybe Ray would finally see that he could always choose.

Francesca and Turnbull didn’t stay long. The first sign of tiredness on Fraser’s part – and he had been really trying not to let it show – was enough for Ray to shoo them out again.

Ray had been right though, Fraser thought when he turned the wood carving around in his hands again. It had been a good idea to see some other faces. It must’ve been very relaxing for Ray as well to be around other people… people he didn’t have to take care of.

Ray looked down at the wood carving in Fraser’s hands. “You know,” he said conversationally, “I _had_ thought of some other endearment than ‘tardigrade’ when I get tired of ‘freak’.” His chuckle evolved into full blown laughter at Fraser’s incredulous expression.

“I’m sure you’re the best-looking tardigrade out there, if it’s any consolation,” Ray wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes.

Fraser’s eyes gentled as he watched with fond exasperation as Ray’s laughing fit shook his slender frame.

* * *

“You wanna lie down a little?” Ray asked once their visitors had left.

“I would prefer it,” Fraser admitted.

Ray grinned. He had hoped Fraser would say that.

He helped Fraser onto the couch and stretched Fraser’s legs out.

“What are you doing?” Fraser asked curiously.

“I’m stretching you out on the couch,” Ray explained with Fraser’s best ‘obviously’ voice.

Fraser smiled.

“I can feel that. I wanted to know why.”

Ray looked up at Fraser’s face and grinned. “So that I can lie next to you, of course.”

Gracefully, Ray climbed over him and settled half on top and half beside him. With a content sigh, Ray rested his head in the crook of Fraser’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you worried that you could get too heavy for me?” Fraser asked mildly.

Ray snorted. “As if—besides, if I really get too heavy, which I doubt is possible, you could try exercising those thigh muscles and push me off,” he grinned.

“Is that the goal?” Fraser asked with a small smile.

Ray snuggled further into Fraser’s body. “Nope. The goal is catching a nap. And I know from experience that a Mountie is the perfect place for that.”

“I see,” Fraser said, amused, bringing up his arms to hold Ray.

He must’ve dozed off for real because for a moment his only sensory information was of Ben’s hand, gently stroking over his back in a soothing motion, before the rest of his senses offered any input of their own.

He blinked awake and raised his head to look up at Ben. “Did you sleep?”

“A little,” Fraser confirmed with a smile.

“’s good,” Ray slurred.

They lay together quietly for a while longer. Ray’s fingers explored Ben’s upper body. He’d been gaining weight back, Ray thought with a victorious grin that he smothered in Fraser’s chest. He’d get his strength back before long; Ray was sure of it… which reminded him…

“I talked to your doctor, during your therapy session.”

Fraser stiffened underneath him.

“Remember that you said you couldn’t repeat your body’s sudden interest in sex?”

“Ray,” Fraser said warningly.

“I thought my dignity isn’t worth much anyway so I asked the doc about it,” Ray continued, unperturbed.

“Ray,” he repeated, sad and resigned.

“No, listen, he said if it happened once—”

“Ray,” Fraser’s voice held a clear note of annoyance now.

“There’s no reason that it won’t happen again sometime, okay?”

“But it isn’t happening again,” he snapped. “It isn’t and it might never and you really shouldn’t get your hopes up. I can’t and I’m sorry,” Fraser spat.

“Would you stop saying you’re sorry? It’s not your fault!” Ray glared, raising himself up.

“I can’t help it if you feel it’s something I should be able to do and I simply can’t. Believe me I want it more than you can imagine, but I can’t change it!” Fraser exclaimed angrily.

“Dammit! Would you stop thinking this is something I need you to do?”

“Well, it’s clearly quite frequently on your mind for I can’t remember bringing it up myself.”

Ray sat up and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to give up hope, all right?”

“Yes, because it’s so much better to put hopes into something that might never happen. For what? To constantly fail your expectations?”

“Would you shut the hell up? This isn’t about my expectations. I’m not expecting anything, okay? _Arggh_ , god, you make me so mad sometimes,” Ray snarled.

“Good, at least we’re on the same page where that is concerned,” Fraser replied tightly.

“Yeah…” Ray muttered dejectedly, getting up from the couch.

Fraser pushed himself into a sitting position and sighed.

* * *

Fraser tried hard not to envy Ray when he went back to work. Ray didn’t seem to be very glad about it; a frown had become an almost permanent fixture on his face.

Fraser tried to assure him that there was no cause for worry.

The muscles in Fraser’s torso had adapted to the strain of maneuvering the wheelchair and his legs had gained at least a bit of muscle back. Not enough to carry him, but enough that getting in and out of the wheelchair wasn’t such an ordeal anymore.

Besides, as he repeatedly told Ray, Diefenbaker would stay with him.

His lupine companion wouldn’t let him come to any harm during Ray’s absence.

Ray wasn’t even gone for the whole day; he came back to the apartment for his lunch hour and if he wasn’t stuck behind the desk he came in for a short look whenever his case allowed him to. Fraser had to thank Lieutenant Welsh the next time he saw him for not putting Ray on any high priority cases.

He feared that Ray’s concentration wasn’t at its best during his time at the station and Fraser didn’t know how Ray would cope with an emotionally taxing situation, like a murder case, on top of dealing with Fraser’s condition.

Fraser watched the street below their apartment window and tried not to worry too much. He wasn’t worried that Ray would get hurt on the job while he wasn’t there. Ray could take care of himself and Ray had been doing this job for a long time with and without his help. Welsh wouldn’t let him run around half-cocked, he knew that.

No, he was more anxious that one day Ray would come home and find out that this wasn’t the life he had signed up for. Some day Ray might resent having to take care of him and Fraser was afraid that he would be able to see it on his face and know it was all over.

He looked down in his lap and shook his head at his own sentimentality. After Ray had left at the end of his lunch break Fraser had picked up the faded blanket that Ray had brought him in the hospital.

A grown man shouldn’t need a security blanket, he chided himself. The sense of calm and the bottled memories that washed over him when he handled it were too tempting to give up, though.

Fraser had started reading Ray’s book. In between he really had to shake his head and smile because he could picture quite clearly how Sam Spade had appealed to a younger Ray; tough, his own boss, a dare-devil with a sharp tongue and a mouth too big for his own good.

It was a certain sense of freedom, being able to be on his own again for a while. And yet he was already looking forward to the moment when Ray would come home again… even though he dreaded the moment the door would open almost as much.

* * *

Ray fell onto the couch with an exhausted groan. He had left Fraser for his therapy session with _Craig_ and his attempts at literary seduction with growing wariness the more Fraser participated in his exercises.

Last time Ray had come to get him, Craig had his hands slung all over Fraser assisting him around a track with stairs. And when Fraser had stumbled, he had put a hand out to steady himself on Craig’s arm.

The way Craig praised Fraser’s progress whenever Ray was around… it always felt as if Craig was making sure that Ray knew it wasn’t his achievement that Fraser was improving.

He gritted his teeth.

Ben probably enjoyed the talk about books and the poetic recital Craig was apparently so good at. Well, tough luck, Ray didn’t know any poetry. And he was damned if he started memorizing poems now.

Maybe it was more important to Ben now… talking about stuff like that? Because he couldn’t do much in the way of physical activities and sex was out of the question… perhaps Fraser was really looking for someone with more ivory tower knowledge to entertain him…

Ray wasn’t good at that. He liked a good movie and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t read, but… a lot of books bored him and he got the characters mixed up and he didn’t believe in all that crap about reading between the lines. A good story was a good story—who cared what the author had intended to tell underneath it all?

His fingers closed tightly around the buttons he was still carrying around. Ben cared, apparently.

The telephone rang and Ray groaned. Whoever it was, he really didn’t wanna talk to them. He slouched to the kitchen counter anyway and picked up the phone with a resigned face as he saw an unknown number on the display.

“Yeah, Kowalski,” Ray announced to the caller.

“Gee, you ever think of saying ‘hello’ when someone’s calling you, Stanley?” Vecchio complained.

“Uh-oh,” Ray said before he could stop himself.

There was a pause the length of a heartbeat, then Vecchio blurted: “What do you mean ‘uh-oh’? What happened this time? Don’t tell me. I leave town for a few weeks and you two reduce the city of Chicago to dust?”

Ray rubbed his neck. Oh, this was so not going to be pretty.

“Nah, you know Chicago. The perps just keep popping back up like some damn jack-in-the-box. So, uh, how’s Florida?” No crime to change a subject, was it?

“Hey, you know Florida. Sun, sun, and what do you know? More sun. Listen, as much as I like chatting with you, can I speak to Benny?”

“Uh…” Ray made a face. Did it have to be him that told Vecchio?

“What do you mean ‘uh’? What’s going on over there?”

He had to tell him at some point. Over the phone was probably safer. It reduced the risk of bodily harm.

“He’s in the hospital.”

“HE’S WHAT—?” Vecchio shouted and Ray held the phone away from his ear with a wince.

“I swear to god, Stanley… you’re supposed to watch his back—”

“It’s not my fault,” Ray exclaimed angrily.

Vecchio sighed. “Yeah, yeah, it’s Benny, I know. He just can’t help it. Which leg is it this time?”

Ray held the phone a short distance away from his ear again. “Both,” he said and waited for the storm of expletives to rush over the line before he held the phone close again.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, okay. It’s not his fault this time; you shot him.” Ray thought he probably shouldn’t have put it that way.

“He’s at the hospital because I shot him? Listen, Ray, in case you’ve forgotten I’m in Florida. I don’t know what they put in the coffee at the station nowadays, but—”

There was a female murmur in the background that Ray couldn’t make out.

“No, no, Stanley’s fine—as annoying as ever. It’s Benny,” Vecchio explained to who Ray guessed must’ve been Stella.

“Yes, I shot him and no, I didn’t intend to shoot him, I—”

“It’s from that time,” Ray interrupted. “When you shot him because of the Victoria disaster. The bullet shifted and they had to get it out.”

There was dead silence for a moment on the other side of the phone.

“Vecchio? You still there?” Ray asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” Vecchio croaked. “Shit… is he… I mean is he…”

Ray took pity on the man.

“He’s better. He’s getting physio at the moment, actually—”

“I should’ve been there, we should—I’ll be in Chicago as quick as I can, I—”

“Calm down!” Ray ordered. “Fraser didn’t want to worry you that’s why we didn’t tell you, okay? He came through it all right. Get your business in order, tie up your loose ends, and then you can come see him. He might even be out of the wheelchair by then. Don’t make him feel guilty for abandoning your trip to Florida, ‘kay?”

Vecchio took a few calming breaths. “Is he mad at me?”

“No,” Ray said with a sigh. Maybe Ben should be, though. Might’ve helped to be angry at someone else rather than himself. “He’s not blaming you.”

“Thank God,” Vecchio gasped, relieved. “Okay, listen, I need a few weeks to get things wrapped up here—you sure I shouldn’t get on the next plane?”

“It’s fine, Ray. I tell him and he’ll call you, okay? Not much any of us can do anyway,” Ray said patiently.

“Yeah, you do that. And Stanley?”

“What now?”

“Tell him I’m sorry.”

Ray smiled. “He knows that. I’ll tell him, don’t worry. Give my hello to the Missus,” Ray smirked.

“Bye, Stanley."

Ray sighed with relief when Vecchio had hung up. At least this was one thing less to worry about now.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“You’ve done it!” Craig exclaimed triumphantly when Fraser reached the window. Sweat was pouring down his neck, but Fraser couldn’t contain the smile.

He wobbled slightly and Craig steadied him with a firm grip on his arm. “Now, don’t ruin the effect by falling,” he laughed gently.

Fraser smiled. He hadn’t expected it to be so exhausting to walk on crutches. His right leg was giving him more grief than the left one, suddenly losing strength or trembling in between steps.

But he had done it. He had crossed the whole length of the room.

He laughed with relief. It would probably take another few weeks before he could walk regularly with the help of the crutches, but Ray would be so surprised. Fraser smiled.

It was deceiving, not telling Ray that he was practicing to walk with crutches, but he wanted to see the pleasure wash over Ray’s face when he saw him walk on his own for the first time.

It was a childish joy, but there was so little he could do without Ray knowing that he really wanted to make this a surprise.

“Our time is almost up, let’s get you seated again,” Craig said with a glance at the clock.

Fraser had hardly touched the wheelchair when Ray knocked on the door and entered.

“Hey, what did I miss?” He smiled.

“Ah,” Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. “We…”

“I just told Benton here about a great play he might enjoy. The critics were very much in favor of it and it’s only in town for another week. But you’ve probably heard about it; are you a friend of the theater?” Craig asked Ray.

“No, sorry, uh, I haven’t heard anything about it,” Ray mumbled, shuffling a little.

“Oh, Benton here can tell you all about it, if you’re interested. I’m sure,” Craig said with another one of his toothpaste smiles.

“Of course,” Fraser said with a smile at Craig.

“Very good, that’s it for today then—and Benton, don’t forget what you promised me?”

“No, of course not,” Fraser said softly. Craig had gotten him riled up enough so that Fraser had snapped he would do the exercises at home and then be able to walk to the end of the room and _back_ next week.

He knew he had been manipulated the moment Craig had clapped his hands, but he had been frustrated enough to speak before he thought about it.

And if he really managed that, then it wasn’t long before he could come home on crutches instead of in a wheelchair. Fraser could already see Ray’s disbelieving smile.

Ray was unusually quiet on the ride home. Fraser rubbed his eyebrow and tried to find something comforting to say. He knew that Ray was under a lot of stress, working a regular shift, always driving him to the therapy and back, cooking, cleaning, and walking Dief.

He’d tried giving Ray some room, so that he could at least relax for a little while in the evenings. Fraser didn’t want to demand his attention on top of everything else. He wished there was more he could do for him, but he wasn’t much help with any of the tasks Ray had to take care of so some peace was more or less the only thing he could offer Ray.

And Ray seemed to need that time to himself, even if it wasn’t always easy for Fraser to leave him alone after waiting the whole day to have him back home. But Ray would sit in front of the television or just sit quietly on the couch, looking tired and small, and Fraser was afraid that if he claimed that time for himself as well than there might be not enough strength left in Ray to go on.

So he sat quietly next to Ray on the couch and pretended that this was a regular evening, like they had had before the surgery. Just a quiet evening in. There also wasn’t much Fraser could tell to keep Ray entertained.

He was doing little else than his physical therapy and talking about his sessions with Craig only seemed to depress Ray.

Maybe Fraser should’ve told him about training with the crutches after all? Maybe it was his – to Ray – non-existent progress that made it hard for Ray to hear about his exercises?

In the beginning, he had recounted his conversations with Craig—even though he was fairly certain that Ray wouldn’t be interested in them, just to have something to talk about. Fraser sighed. But Ray had only looked more lost when he did that so he had stopped boring him with it.

Fraser asked about Ray’s work instead, but either Ray’s heart wasn’t in it or nothing much happened at work, for quite often Ray couldn’t even tell what he had been doing at work. Bringing Fraser back to the problem at hand that Ray was trying to cope with too much.

They arrived back at the apartment and Fraser got settled on the couch. Ray got something to drink and sat down beside him; he was studying his hands for a while.

“So… are you going to the theater with Craig then?” Ray asked quietly.

Surprised, Fraser looked at Ray. He had almost forgotten about the play. It had been quick thinking on Craig’s part to resume their earlier conversation when Ray had come in.

“No, Craig is on a conference over the weekend. What made you think that?”

Ray shrugged. “Just… it sounded like it was something you would both enjoy… do you…” he shrugged again. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Fraser’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You don’t even know which play it is yet.”

“Does it matter?”

Fraser rubbed a knuckle over his eyebrow. “Oddly, yes. I wouldn’t want to drag you to the theater if you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

“I could… come with you just to keep you company,” Ray explained softly.

“Ray, this isn’t really about the play, is it?” Fraser asked gently. He had known Ray for years and not once had he expressed any love for the stage.

“Do you wanna go with Craig when he’s back in town?” Ray sounded close to choking.

Fraser frowned.

“I don’t see why Craig is important with respect to the play,” he admitted with another flick of his thumb over his eyebrow.

“I thought you had so much in common, no? Thought he was such a great guy—why shouldn’t you wanna go to a play with him?” Ray said surprisingly bitterly.

“Ray…” Fraser bit his lip, trying to tread carefully. “Are you jealous?” He felt really stupid asking such a preposterous question, but he usually wasn’t this bad at reading Ray and…

“So what if I am?” Ray said angrily. “He’s tall, with broad shoulders, and stunning blue eyes… he knows all kinds of books, he can talk for hours on end—and there’s probably tons of stuff more that makes him attractive to you, and—”

Fraser raised an eyebrow, feeling mildly confused.

“Are you sure we are talking about my type here?”

Ray stopped abruptly mid-rant. “What are you talking about?”

Fraser pulled at his collar. “I don’t want to flatter myself, but the description you have just given sounds more like what you are always saying about me than a description of you.”

Ray frowned. “That’s my point. He’s got all the stuff in common with you, and he—”

“Ray,” it was so hard to keep from smiling all of a sudden. “I don’t want to be with someone identical to myself. I love you, why on earth should I replace you with someone like myself then?”

Ray gaped at him.

“And… while I think it’s flattering that you think Craig would be interested—”

“Oh, he’s interested in you, trust me on this,” Ray spluttered.

“I’m bound to a wheelchair, I’m— I can’t return sexual interest… I’m not the catch you seem to think I am.”

“Are you unhinged?” Ray sprang up from the couch. “Did the pills make you stupid?” Ray’s eyes sparkled furiously.

Ray was… he was actually serious. He really was jealous. It—it didn’t make any sense.

Ray’s heart had to be blind. Here Fraser had spent weeks, well months, really, agonizing over the thought that Ray would come to the conclusion that loving him was simply more work than it was worth and… all this time… Ray had been afraid Fraser could abandon him? Because… what? Because Ray had thought without the sex he didn’t have enough to offer? That he couldn’t compete with Craig?

“How long have you been jealous, Ray?” Fraser asked.

Ray threw his head to the side and stared out of the window for a second. “It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is,” he contradicted him. “Give me your hands,” he said, all of a sudden.

This brave, loving, idiot of a man.

Confused, Ray stretched out his arms, palms up as if he was still offering something to Fraser.

Fraser took a deep breath and reached for Ray’s forearms, almost at the bend of his elbows. His own elbows were resting almost on Ray’s palms.

“Now hold,” Fraser said and the moment he pushed himself up he knew that Ray had understood; his muscles tensed as he supported Fraser.

Fraser came to a stand in front of Ray, his hands still clasped around Ray’s arms as if he was his crutch now.

“Ben…” Ray whispered. “You’re standing.”

“Yes… I wanted to do this for a long time,” and then he leaned forward a little bit to press his lips to Ray’s.

Fraser pulled back and took another deep breath. He could do this. His hands tightened their grip. Just like with the crutches, he reminded himself.

“Take a step back, Ray,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Take a step back,” Fraser repeated.

Ray moved his right foot back. His stockinged feet glided smoothly over the hardwood floor.

Fraser looked down at his feet. He could feel the wood against his bare feet. It helped with the exercises if he was barefoot and he was twice as glad now. He flexed his toes.

One deep breath, he thought.

And then his left foot moved forward.

“Another one,” he said to Ray, still concentrating on his feet, and Ray nodded and moved his left foot back.

Fraser braced himself and followed with his right leg.

“One more,” he whispered.

Nodding, Ray obeyed.

Fraser concentrated on his feet as he moved forward, step by step.

His right leg wobbled suddenly, but Ray’s grip on his arm stayed tight. “Breathe,” Ray murmured and Fraser found his balance again.

They moved two steps more.

Fraser licked his lips. “Step back.”

Ray laughed breathlessly. “I can’t.”

Fraser’s head flew up and then his eyes widened. “Oh.” Ray’s back had hit the wall.

Ray’s eyes were soft and shining. “You walked, Ben, you fucking walked.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Fraser murmured, shyly pleased.

He moved a little closer, until his toes bumped Ray’s. Hoping his legs would carry him, Fraser began raising his left arm—but Ray seemed to know instinctively what Fraser wanted to do. His arm moved with him, safely guiding Fraser’s hand to his shoulder.

They repeated the same process with Fraser’s other arm until he had Ray in an embrace. He leaned in to kiss him again.

Light. He felt so light. His hands tightened their hold of Ray’s shirt, soaking up the warmth of his skin.

Never had he underestimated someone as much as he had misjudged Ray. He deepened the kiss, unwilling to let go.

When they finally parted, Ray was smiling.

His lips twitched into a toothy grin for a second. “How are we going to get back?” he murmured.

“Oh dear. I have no idea,” Fraser laughed quietly.

Ray chuckled.

“Let’s turn around. I’ll walk backwards and you can guide me.”

“Okay,” Fraser smiled.

Walking to the end of the room and back would be a piece of cake next week.

* * *

Carefully, Fraser gripped the kitchen counter to arrange the necessary ingredients.

As long as he could reach out to steady himself, he should be fine—

Dief stood in the entrance of the kitchen and whined.

Fraser frowned.

“I thank you for your concern, but I assure you I am more than able to prepare something as simple as pasta on my own.”

The half-wolf grumbled and sat back on his haunches. “I’m not pushing it,” Fraser muttered irritably. “I can walk just fine with the crutches; standing on my own shouldn’t pose much of a challenge.”

Fraser gritted his teeth. He could do this. A look at the clock showed him that he had ample time before Ray would return from work.

He steadied himself with one hand to reach for a cutting board and a knife. His hand still tingled now and again when he gripped something tightly, but it receded fairly quickly.

Chopping the onions went smoothly enough. He reached for the tomatoes and proceeded to cut them into small pieces. A self-satisfied smiled appeared on his lips as he surveyed his handiwork. This almost felt normal.

He placed the knife in the sink and opened the drawer to get the can opener. Okay, now he only had to get the can of peeled tomatoes open and together with the freshly chopped ingredients into the skillet and then the sauce could simmer until it was time for Ray’s arrival—he might even get the washing up done before Ray came home.

He pulled the lid of the can open and turned to the stove to pour the contents into the skillet when his right leg trembled. He had already turned to the side though and the tremor didn’t recede. He wobbled and felt his right leg give way so he made a grab for the edge of the counter, dropping the can on the floor in the process.

Dief barked and Fraser swallowed a curse. He couldn’t even clean up after himself and his stupid leg was still shaking—the oil in the pan was sizzling angrily.

“For the love of—” Fraser snarled and swept his hand over the counter, pulling everything on it to the floor with a crash.

Fraser put a hand over his eyes and breathed heavily. Just great.

Dief whimpered softly and Fraser sighed.

“I’m absolutely useless,” he whispered as the anger evaporated. What a mess…

The next moment, the key rattled in the lock. Fraser pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course…. of all the times Ray could have been early, he thought bitterly.

* * *

Ray was grinning from ear to ear on his way back from work. He was humming a song he couldn’t even remember the title of, but Ben had played it on the guitar a couple of times, and it seemed appropriate.

He’d stopped on his way home to buy an assortment of donuts, thinking Dief would probably start a cult for him and Ben really, really liked the ones with the blueberry jam—even though he’d never admit how much.

God, he was so proud of Fraser. It was the second week that he was walking on crutches now and he could even – carefully – walk a few steps on his own as long as he had something to hold on to in case his legs abandoned him. It happened less and less often, though. Ray smiled.

He snuck a glance at his watch and did a little jig. He was early. Fraser would be surprised.

“I’m home,” Ray called and was greeted by Dief who probably possessed something like a pastry-radar. “Nuh-uh. Those are for later,” Ray held the box out of the reach of wolf slobber. “Where’s Fraser?”

Dief flattened his ears and whined. Ray frowned. That didn’t look too good.

Ray deposited the box on the side table in the hall.

“Ben?” he called as he entered the living room.

He heard a sigh coming from the left, from the direction of the kitchen.

“I’m here,” Fraser answered resignedly.

Ray’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch as he saw the mess on the floor. A can of tomatoes had covered the kitchen floor in a mess of scarlet, but somehow Ray didn’t think that the plates and the chopped stuff had all ended up on the floor by accident as well.

He raised his eyebrows and stepped carefully behind Fraser who was still standing right in the middle of the mess with his hands on the kitchen counter, spelling ‘ashamed’ with every line of his body.

Ray’s arms came around him and he rested his chin on Fraser’s shoulder.

“I told you the green stuff you’re so fond of would lead a counter-attack some day,” he said mildly.

Fraser’s lip twitched into a tired smile. “I’m sorry, Ray.”

Ray shook his head. “Don’t be,” he pressed a kiss to Ben’s throat. “What happened?”

Fraser sighed unhappily and rubbed at his eyebrow. Ray thought he could probably guess what had happened.

“I wanted to make dinner when—” he hung his head and Ray translated that Fraser’s legs hadn’t been very supportive of that idea. “The open can slipped out of my hand then and…” he licked his lips and Ray saw a faint blush rising up his cheeks. “I’m afraid my frustration got the better of me. It’s really no excuse—and I’m sorry about the plates, I’ll—”

Ray smiled. It was something so human to do—and so stupid, venting your emotions by clearing the counter. He just never would’ve guessed Fraser could be pushed so far.

He chuckled. “You’re aware that I’ll store that memory away for safe-keeping, right?”

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Fraser said, embarrassed.

“Too late, Benton-buddy,” Ray laughed. He tightened his embrace and sobered up a little. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? You’re doing great.”

Fraser smiled a little and took Ray’s hand in his. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to Ray’s knuckles.

* * *

“No, Ray, please,” Fraser smiled, holding the phone close to his ear. “I’m fine…” he shook his head fondly. Ray Vecchio was extraordinarily stubborn.

“I would really prefer it if you finished your business first before you returned. There is no reason to abandon your project just to see me, I really am fine. Ray is taking care of me—yes…” Fraser smiled, “no, I’m not just trying to reassure you—”

Ray came in and raised his eyebrows in question at the telephone. Fraser mouthed ‘Ray’ and Ray rolled his eyes with a grin.

“Tell Vecchio we need to get to your appointment, he can call back later.”

Fraser nodded with a helpless lift of his shoulders.

“Ray, I really need to go now. I’ll call you back—and don’t worry.”

Fraser hung up and smiled at Ray. “I think Ray is still blaming himself for the whole thing.”

Ray snorted. “Is he already at the airport or what?”

“No, actually that was the reason for his call. Apparently there was some delay with the paperwork and he needs a little while longer to close the deal and I told him it’s fine, they can finish looking for an apartment and he can come visit me when they come back to Chicago to move their belongings.”

“Very sensible,” Ray grinned. “Okay, up and at her.”

Fraser had to admit that, a few months back, he hadn’t thought he would ever be able to walk on his own again. And now he moved almost fluidly again—he could even climb stairs by himself. It felt almost back to normal… he felt Ray’s hand at his back, hardly there at all, but he knew that Ray would be ready to catch him in a heartbeat should he experience problems.

…well, almost back to normal. He still couldn’t…. he hadn’t made love to Ray in all the time since the surgery… he had never again felt the slightest reaction below the waist even though his legs kept on improving.

Today was another one of his medical check-ups. The doctor measured the responses in his legs and nodded to himself. Fraser could take a seat again and the doctor consulted the pictures from the MRT. “Well,” he said in an approving voice, “Corporal, you have either the most extraordinary regenerative powers or a very strong will for survival—”

“Oh, it’s the stubbornness, trust me,” Ray quipped cheerfully and Fraser shook his head with a smile.

“However, as far as I can tell there seems no reason why you shouldn’t be able to regain the full use of your legs—”

Fraser stared at him with wide eyes and Ray jumped up from his seat with an excited cry.

“Are you serious?” Fraser asked breathlessly.

The doctor smiled. “You have regained far more control over your limbs than we had thought possible and I think with another month of physical therapy running shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

The doctor waited patiently until Ray’s stream of swear words had died down. “Sorry,” Ray mumbled, slightly embarrassed. The grin didn’t die down one watt, though.

“I wouldn’t recommend…” he consulted his notes. “Sentry duty, is that correct? At the moment, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to resume your consulate duties in a few weeks.”

Fraser didn’t know who was happier, he himself or Ray. They had been back at home for more than two hours, but Ray couldn’t stop talking about it or touching him and Fraser couldn’t erase the smile from his face either.

Maybe it was the happiness… maybe it was Ray’s carefree smile… but for the first time Fraser didn’t feel embarrassed or apprehensive about being naked with Ray despite his lack of sex drive.

Feeling Ray’s naked body against his own, after Ray had pulled him into the bedroom with a warm smile, was more than Fraser would ever take for granted.

Just kissing Ray, just being able to touch him, would be enough for him. And Ray didn’t seem to expect more from him— he looked so amazingly happy whenever his eyes met Fraser’s that Fraser was really willing to believe that Ray could be happy with him despite his inability to make love to him.

Ray was still murmuring between kisses. “You’re going to be okay, Frase…”

He kissed Ray back with everything he had. “Ray…” there was so much he wanted to say and so little words could express.

* * *

Hmm… Fraser closed the book. There wasn’t much left until the end and Fraser thought he knew who the murderer was. Hammett had gone to great pains to introduce a wide variety of suspects—ranging from hitmen, to bodyguards, to other interested parties in the statue known as the ‘Maltese Falcon’— and the police force was hell-bent on convicting Spade himself for the murder of his partner.

And then there was Brigid O’Shaughnessy, the tragically beautiful woman who had hired Spade. He tapped thoughtfully against the book cover. Brigid hadn’t told Spade the truth, not once, since she came into his life and even though Spade seemed to go to considerable lengths for her, Fraser didn’t think he really believed her to be the victim in all of this.

Well, he would find out soon enough. He stretched his legs and looked at Dief. “Are you up for a little walking?”

Dief sprang up and yipped excitedly.

Fraser smiled. Ever since the doctor had told him that he would be able to recover fully he had pushed himself even harder, lengthening the duration of his daily walks and the pace of them.

The last few sessions of his physical therapy were almost over. He shook his head… how quickly those last few weeks had passed. Ray Vecchio’s arrival was due in a few days, he was about to go back to work in a week—at least to his work at the consulate…

It was about time his therapy was finished, though. Ray still seemed to think there might be a chance he would elope with Craig. Just before the last session Ray had again made some disparaging remark about Craig’s investment in Fraser’s well-being. Really… Fraser tried to keep the smile in check.

For despite his disapproval of Ray’s attitude towards Craig he couldn’t help but feel a little bit at ease every time Ray complained about Craig and his supposed interest in him.

It really wasn’t very charitable of him to enjoy it, Fraser admitted, but he was in no position to help it.

Fraser came back to the apartment tired but happy. Taking a shower by himself was probably among the biggest luxuries since he had gotten rid of the crutches. He picked up the book again and took it with him into the bedroom.

He stretched out on the bed and found the page where he had stopped this morning. Spade called the police, telling them he would present them with the murderer. He turned to Brigid and asked her: “You knew you needed another protector, so you came back to me. Right?”

And Fraser could picture her pale, drawn face and the exquisite agony on her face as she answered him. “Yes, but, oh! Sweetheart, it wasn’t only that. I would have come back to you sooner or later.”

Fraser also couldn’t help the shiver when Spade said tenderly: “I hope to Christ they don’t hang you, precious, by that sweet neck.” And he slid his hands up to caress her throat. “You’re an angel. I’ll be waiting for you. If they hang you I’ll always remember you.”

So Brigid had been the murderer. He’d suspected that… what he had tried to find out was why Spade had waited so long to deliver her to justice. He had known she had killed his partner from the moment he found his body—why the cat-and-mouse-game? Why had he made it so hard for himself?

Brigid spluttered. “You didn’t—you don’t—l—love me?” But Fraser already knew Spade’s answer to that one.

“I think I do,” Spade replied and Fraser bit his lips and thought maybe that was why he didn’t hand her over right from the beginning. Maybe he had hoped she would provide him with something to redeem her. Something to make him believe that he could save her.

For a moment, Fraser stared unseeing at the page. He thought of snow… even though there was no winter in sight in the story.

His lips formed the words aloud when Spade answered. “I won’t play the sap for you. In my part of the world when your partner gets killed you’re supposed to do something about it. I’m a detective, and expecting me to run any criminal down and then let him go free is like asking a dog to catch a rabbit and then let it go.”

His eyes glided over to Dief’s sleeping form at the foot of the bed without meaning to. Yes, if someone shot your partner you were supposed to do something about it.

He wasn’t having back pain, he couldn’t even say that the scar of the surgery was giving him any grief, and yet he could feel it most distinctly in this one moment.

Brigid would’ve let Spade take the fall for her. She had shot his partner and she had lied to him, over and over again.

Fraser felt his scar beat in time with his pulse. Ray Vecchio hadn’t shot him. Victoria had shot him in the back long before Vecchio arrived on the scene. And if your partner gets shot… you’re supposed to do something about it.

He looked at the book cover in perplexity. Maybe his own experience wasn’t all that original. Maybe it was just another story.

Fraser had understood one thing, though, during those last few agonizing months; he was glad Ray Vecchio had stopped him—even if that meant taking a bullet; and he was glad he had survived. Not once, but twice.

And Sam Spade arrived at work the next morning just like he had every other day. Fraser had done the same thing back when he had arrested her. Maybe that should’ve told him something. He had come through it in one piece and he had left it behind by now. There wasn’t even a bullet left to stay with him as an eternal reminder.

It had been removed. There was nothing binding him to that memory.

Surprised, Fraser smiled. He had always thought of the bullet wound as his mistake—and he had never been sure if his mistake had been loving her, bringing her in that first time, or letting her go that second time. And now it was just that: a memory.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Boy, he would really miss coming home to find Fraser there once he went back to work. Sure, Fraser wouldn’t do whole shifts in the beginning, but until he could come back to the 27th with him it would still be a while and it was… nice, in a way, to have him around all the time.

“Frase?” Ray peered into the empty living room.

“In here,” came the calm reply from the bedroom.

Ray draped his jacket over the back of the couch and went to the bedroom. Fraser sat propped against the pillows with a book next to him and a plate with a green something in his lap.

Dief got up from the floor to greet Ray and he bent down to ruffle his fur for a moment.

“Hey, furface, what did I miss?”

Dief yawned and Ray grinned.

“Really? Gee, color me shocked.”

“I told him no one was forcing him to keep me company, but I think I offended his caring nature,” Fraser explained. Dief raised his tail high and stalked out of the bedroom.

“Uh-huh.” Ray was not getting into the middle of a Fraser-wolf argument; he always lost. He really couldn’t explain it either.

“What’cha eating?” Ray asked with a nod at the green fruit.

“Oh, it’s a mango. Diefenbaker and I found a little grocery store on our walk and I couldn’t resist. It’s almost too early in the year for them, but they smelled heavenly and this one is really surprisingly good,” Fraser explained, cutting another slice off.

Ray smiled. Fraser had always handled a knife with such self-assurance and he looked again quite at ease, juice dripping over his fingers, as he skillfully cut slice after slice off the fruit. Ben had really no idea that he looked good enough to eat.

“Would you like to try a piece?” Fraser asked, cutting a chunk off and offering it to him in one smooth movement

It really did smell good, Ray concluded. He nodded and knelt down on the bed. Instead of taking the offered fruit, though, Ray caught Ben’s hand and held it in place so that the knife stayed carefully out of the way and he could bite a bit off.

Thoughtfully, Ray chewed.

“Good?” Fraser asked with a pleased smile.

Ray licked his lips. “Hell, yeah.”

Fraser had been about to pop the rest of the slice into his own mouth when Ray went after it, grabbing Ben’s hand again to steal the second half of the slice from between his fingers with his mouth.

This was really good. Why had he never tried this before? Ray was still holding on to Fraser’s fingers so he went after the rest of the juice. He licked a path up Fraser’s thumb and into the groove where thumb and index finger met.

Carefully, Ray skirted the knife that Fraser was still holding to lap up the juice that was trickling from the butt of the knife into the palm of Fraser’s hand.

Ray had always loved Ben’s hands. Covered in mango they were even better, who’d have thought? Ray smiled to himself and continued to clean Fraser’s hand. He took the knife from an unresisting Fraser and sucked the juice from his two remaining fingers.

Ben should eat more mangoes, Ray concluded. He might even prefer to eat them from Ben’s hands.

Only when Fraser’s heavy breathing registered with his ears did Ray notice that Ben had become awfully quiet. Puzzled, Ray opened his mouth a little to release Fraser’s fingers, pink tongue sliding along the skin.

A strangled moan left Fraser’s lips and Ray was suddenly overpowered by a full-body shiver. God… he hadn’t heard him make that sound since—

Ray’s eyes went up to meet Fraser’s startling blue ones. Ben’s lips were slightly parted and his tongue came out to wet his lips.

“…Ray…” Fraser croaked and—oh, hello, long time no see, Ray thought when he had to shift to make some room for his hard-on. He’d gotten so good at ignoring this most of the time.

Ben’s hand cradled the back of his head and the next thing Ray knew a pushy tongue was finding its way into his mouth. _Jesus_... oh... they hadn't...god... they hadn't kissed—not like—not like this! A whimper escaped his lips. Frase...

Warm fingers moved underneath his shirt, roaming over his skin, and his cock twitched happily inside of his pants and Fraser broke the kiss with a quiet growl of regret. His hands found the hem of Ray's sweater, though, and next thing Ray knew he was already half undressed.

"Ben..." Ray murmured with a racing heart.

Fraser's eyes were so blue... he took Ray's hands in his and pulled them into his lap. "Ray..." the urgency in his voice took Ray's breath away as he let Fraser press his hands against his groin. Ray's had snapped up. His fingers moved over the well-worn material of Fraser's sweats, feeling the bulge underneath. He was hard. "You—"

He never got to finish that thought because Fraser's tongue was back, demanding and fucking perfect. Quick fingers popped the button on Ray's fly and moved the zipper down. Ray wanted to sob with gratitude, but there wasn't enough breath left for that. He moved up on his knees to get rid of the rest of his clothes, feeling Fraser's hands on every inch of skin.

"Help me out of this," Fraser murmured, heaving himself up so that Ray could pull the sweats off. And before Frase could do it himself, Ray had his hands on Ben’s shirt to wrestle it over his head.

Ben's hair was mussed and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. There was too much want on his face to make room for a smile, but his eyes held enough emotions that words were kind of unnecessary.

"Do you want—" Fraser's voice was scratchy and Ray was too impatient to answer stupid questions. He moved closer, settling in Fraser's lap and he kissed him again. Deeper—more—more—he moved his hips a little, rubbing their cocks together just _so_ and Fraser made a desperate sound, like something starving, so Ray repeated the motion.

He felt Ben move, lean to the left to grope for something, but Ray had never been good at multi-tasking and just kissing Ben would've been enough to keep his remaining brain cell busy— and Ben wasn't even playing fair, gently rubbing the palm of his hand over the head of Ray's cock again and again so that Ray was mostly really along for the ride, bye-bye control.

But that was okay, that was more than okay, that was greatness because this was Ben’s show and if he wanted to touch Ray all over then by all means. Ray could go with the popular choice.

Slippery fingers dipped between his cheeks and Ray bit at Fraser's lips with an embarrassingly needy moan. Sensitive—Jesus—he'd not been touched there in forever and nerves seemed to have a notoriously bad memory, as if they couldn't remember at all that this must've felt just this fucking perfect the last time Ben had done this to him.

Two fingers slipped in and Ray gasped, moving up only to move back against them and Fraser's breathing was way out of control—or maybe that was Ray's own? He couldn't tell—it was just—"so good..." he gasped and Fraser nodded breathlessly, capturing his lips again.

The slide of Ray's hips became more fluent and Fraser withdrew his fingers to pull him closer. Ray moaned quietly when the blunt tip pressed against his entrance.

So long—it had been so long—carefully, Ray pressed back, taking in inch by inch until he could settle in Ben's lap.

"Ray—" Fraser's wrung out moan made Ray's cock twitch in sympathy. He began to move, feeling Fraser move inside of him. "God..." he moaned and suddenly, Fraser's fingers hooked into his bracelet, pulling Ray's hand to his lips.

"Ohhh..." Ben and his stupid kink for his bracelet, Ray gasped for breath as Ben's tongue explored the smooth metal. He'd lose his mind over this— but it didn't look as if Fraser was far behind.

"Ray—" he pleaded as Ray pressed down again. "Yeah..." Ray gasped. "Fuck—" Fraser's fingers closed around Ray's neglected erection and Ray gritted his teeth, picking up the pace of his hips and—he had to—hold on—he wanted to make Ben come—he—

Fraser bucked, pulling Ray tight against him and down, with a moan that seemed to be torn from him. Fraser's grip on his cock tightened and Ray bit his lip, pushing up, soso close—so—"Ben—" Ray sobbed with relief as he followed Ben into his climax.

Fraser’s hands gentled on him and soft lips pressed to Ray’s.  Ray was one boneless heap of nerve-cells. Ben lifted him a little, pulling out as gently as he could, and then he toppled Ray over, flopping him onto his back.

Ray’s hands came up to hold him close. Oh yeah… sweaty Fraser… there was really nothing like it, Ray thought as he looked up at Fraser leaning over him.  His eyes were all soft, but Ray could make out that crooked tooth behind Fraser’s half-smile and he knew that this was the look of a Mountie who got the canary but good.

“Guh…” Ray added eloquently.

Fraser’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

They lay entangled for a while longer until Ray’s stomach began to rumble. Fraser chuckled.

“I’ll take a quick shower and then I’ll order something for dinner, do you have any preferences?”

“Anything’s fine,” Ray murmured. He thought Fraser was the one not used to having a hard-on anymore and if anyone should be lying in bed it was him, but Fraser seemed to be so fucking pleased with having reduced Ray to this state that it really wasn’t in him to point it out.

Ben pulled Ray close again and kissed him. “I love you,” he said when he released him again.

Ray smiled. “I love you, too, Benton Fraser.” God, he would never tire of this man.

With another kiss, Ben vanished into the bathroom and Ray flopped back onto the bed.

He could hear the water running and grinned like an idiot. Ben was back.

At first, Ray didn’t even notice the noise and when he finally did hear the knocking he had problems figuring out why he heard it.

Who the hell would be knocking on their door? And now, of all times?

Ray groaned and debated ignoring it. But the knocking was pretty insistent so Ray figured the person on the other side of the door must’ve taken a page out of Fraser’s book when it came to stubborness.

He grabbed a couple of tissues to get at least most of the mess from his chest and stomach cleaned up and then he fished for his shirt and pants.

“Yeah—yeah, I got it,” he called in the direction of the hallway.

When he finally flung the door open he wasn’t at all prepared for what greeted him.

“You have the worst timing ever, Vecchio,” Ray scowled.

Vecchio looked exasperated. “You’re honestly telling me this? I’ve been here since half an hour ago—you two do realize that your walls aren’t soundproof, right?”

Ray felt the tips of his ear heat. He refused to be embarrassed about this—not when it had taken Fraser months to get there.

“How did you even get into the building?” he asked instead.

Vecchio smirked.

“Don’t tell me you two are so busy between the sheets all the time that you don’t even know the front door doesn’t lock anymore?”

Oh. Right. Ray had wanted to do something about that… sometime.

Attack was the best defense, right?

“If you heard us half an hour ago why the hell didn’t you come back some other time?” Ray said—he didn’t whine; Kowalski’s didn’t do whining… even if it sounded exactly like it.

Vecchio rolled his eyes.

“Benny’s in the hospital, I’m gone for months, and you honestly think I’d drive by without seeing him?”

Way to be dramatic, Ray thought. Months… well, maybe...

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Vecchio asked pointedly and Ray sighed and stepped back to let him enter. Vecchio wrinkled his nose at him, still smirking.

“Just—can you not tease Fraser about this?” Ray really didn’t want Ben to feel bad about this. Not after everything they’ve been through to get there.

“You think I’ll talk to Benny about this?” Vecchio asked pointedly.

Ray grinned a little. “Right you are. He’ll be out of the shower in no time.”

Fraser really didn’t take longer than a few minutes more.

“Ray, I thought I heard—Ray!” Fraser exclaimed with a sudden smile as he saw Ray Vecchio sitting on the couch. “You’re here early—I didn’t expect you for another two days.”

“Surprise,” Vecchio grinned broadly and stood up to hug him.

Ray reminded himself that Vecchio had married Stella and there was really no reason to envy the warm welcome he was getting.

He went to grab a shower. This would be a long night.

* * *

Ray waited in front of the hospital when Fraser came out.

Surprise registered on Fraser’s face before he smiled. “Ray, you didn’t have to give me a ride. I can walk,” the smile turned into something very much like a grin and Ray’s heart had never felt so light. Yeah, Ben could walk.

“You kidding? I’m so used to you riding shotgun I might suffer from withdrawal. Besides, today was your last session. I wanted to be there at the finish line.”

“Thank you,” Fraser opened the car door and got in. Ray shook his head; watching Ben walk so casually was just a sight he really had to get used to again. No one who saw him now would’ve guessed that he hadn’t even been able to stand by himself just a few months back.

Ray had a question that was almost burning through his tongue, but he didn’t want to spoil the mood and he knew that Fraser would frown again and tell him it was all in his head anyway so he held it in.

—until they were home and Fraser was about to get dressed. In uniform. Christmas was coming early this year. He hadn’t seen Fraser in his serge since shortly before the surgery, and he could only imagine how much this must mean to him.

Turnbull had almost broken his neck getting everything spotless and shining in the Consulate for Fraser’s return and Ray had promised Welsh another night shift if he got half the day off to come get Fraser from his therapy session and take him to work… just like he had always done in the past in the mornings.

Welsh had rubbed his chin and mused that Ray was supposed to investigate a break-in and wasn’t the Consulate almost on the way, what a coincidence. He really owed the Lieutenant.

Fraser laid all the bits and pieces of his uniform out on the bed with a fond look on his face.

“Was Craig sorry to see you go?” Ray bit his lip. Damn it, now it was out anyway. He really hadn’t wanted to ask.

Fraser seemed to freeze for a second in the middle of fastening his jodhpurs. “Ah,” he pulled at his collar and Ray jumped up to look at his face.

“Ah what? Spit it out—what did he do?”

The tips of Fraser’s ears went red. He reached for his Henley and bought some time getting it on. When his face resurfaced he answered. “Now that I, ah, am not his patient anymore, that is, he asked, well…” Fraser looked uncomfortable.

Ray’s eyes widened. “He came on to you! I fucking knew it!”

“Ray,” Fraser cautioned and pulled his serge on.

“Spill—did he try to kiss you? God—” Ray ran a hand through his hair in a haphazard manner. “All this time—I told you he was getting off on touching you.”

Fraser closed the buttons of the serge with a stern look in Ray’s direction. _Jesus_ —this was not supposed to be hot, Ray knew that.

It shouldn’t even be a turn-on to watch Ben getting dressed—if anything it should go in the other direction. But watching him getting back into his Mountie-self did unmentionable things to Ray’s ability to concentrate.

“Don’t be silly, Ray. He did not try to kiss me. He merely inquired if I would be interested in having dinner with him, thinking I would appreciate some, ah,” he licked his lips, “stimulating conversation.”

“Stimulating conversation?” Ray deadpanned. That was the educated equivalent of asking ‘wanna fuck?’

“He offered nothing of the sort,” Fraser answered with a frown. Oops, Ray should really watch which thought he let escape out of his mouth.

Fraser tightened the Sam Browne and straightened his lanyard and Ray had to swallow his reply together with the excess of saliva that was suddenly pooling in his mouth.

_God_ … you’d think after all this time Ray should’ve known how much he loved Ben in his uniform… the things you never knew about yourself. He guessed it had always been such a fixture that he had never thought about it. Now, seeing Fraser in his usual getup, Ray was aware that there had been something missing all this time.

Fraser turned around to face Ray and pulled him close with very determined hands.

That kiss was a definite promise of more to come—at least Ray hoped he was translating this correctly. Fraser’s fingers stayed on his face even after he had pulled away.

“I don’t remember letting _Craig_ lick juice off my fingers,” Fraser said pointedly with a small smile.

Which, of course, simply derailed Ray’s thought anew because— _Jesus_ —that had to be his hottest memory in the category ‘just in’.

“Uh…” Ray mumbled.

The laugh lines around Fraser’s eyes deepened.

“I find your person more than _stimulating_ enough,” he murmured and it almost sounded like some form of confession and Ray thought, aww hell, if the Mountie started talking dirty _now_ Ray would have to call Thatcher and tell her that Fraser couldn’t come in anytime soon.

“Do you trust me?” Fraser asked, biting his lip with a questioning look at Ray.

Ray felt ten times of stupid. Of course he did… so what if Craig wanted in Ben’s pants? Wasn’t as if Ray couldn’t sympathize with that. But Ben was right here with Ray no matter how many months Craig had whispered dirty poetry into his ear.

Ray grinned. “Partners.”

Fraser’s eyes softened and he caught Ray’s lips for another kiss. “There are red ships and green ships, Ray,” he answered with barely suppressed amusement and Ray rolled his eyes with a grin. “Shove off, Fraser.”

* * *

“It’s about time, Corporal.”

Fraser nodded with a small smile at the Inspector. Even though her voice was as professional as always her features had softened.

“I’m glad to be back,” he replied earnestly.

“Imagine my relief after months with only Constable Turnbull for assistance,” she replied dryly. And Corporal?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Try not to get involved with anything weird before lunch. Dismissed,” she smiled warmly at him and Fraser bowed with a hint of a smile himself.

Fraser looked around his office and felt transported back in time. Nothing had changed—it all looked exactly like it always had. It was so easy to fall back into the old sense of familiarity. He smoothed a hand down his serge. It was good to be back.

He wondered what Ray was doing at the moment—that reminded him… Ray had snuck something into his pocket after his jealous display. Fraser smiled and shook his head. He reached into his pants and frowned when his fingers closed around something small and flat.

He pulled his hand out and stared at the blue buttons in his palm. This was a button from his shirt—the shirt they had ruined in a rather heated, well, discussion. But they hadn’t managed to find the buttons again; they must’ve rolled underneath some piece of furniture—of course! When Ray had made room for the wheelchair that must’ve been when he found them.

All this time then… he must’ve carried them around with him. Smiling, Fraser put them back into his pocket. He was already looking forward to seeing Ray later.

* * *

Fraser was standing right in the middle of the room when Ray came home.

When Ray saw him, a smile appeared on his lips. “Hey there,” he called and Fraser took a deep breath and fully turned around.

“You never listen to me,” he accused Ray and had the pleasure of watching Ray’s mouth drop open. “It’s always the same with you. I’m only trying to keep you safe and you’re not making this any easier.”

Ray gaped at him, completely at a loss for words.

“Do you want to get yourself killed? Is that it? Because I swear to God I can’t watch out for you if you’re not cooperating,” Fraser continued angrily while Ray spluttered.

Ray put a hand to his temple and seemed to steady himself. After he had calmed himself down he came up to Fraser and reached out for his hand.

“Ben… are you…” and Ray didn’t seem to know what the right word was. “Okay?” he asked finally. “I mean… did anything happen? Did—did you suffer a blow to the head or something?” Ray asked carefully.

Finally, Fraser couldn’t take anymore. His shoulders shook with silent laughter as he reached into his pocket to pull the buttons out. He held them in front of Ray’s face and tried to contain his smile.

Ray’s eyes widened and his incredulous expression turned to an exasperated grin.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Ray gasped with relief. “God, I thought you had a head injury or something. My next question would’ve been what day you thought it was,” he shook his head. “So that was what we were fighting about back then?”

“Yes,” Fraser smiled. “I took your part this time, obviously.”

“Thought you would have it memorized,” Ray admitted. “Did it help?”

Fraser was confused. “Did what help?”

Ray shrugged a little awkwardly. “The buttons… I… they kinda reminded me of—of how our fight ended—you know? And I… I kept them as a good luck charm and thought you could use a bit of luck…” Ray finished, red in the face.

“Oh, Ray,” Fraser murmured and pulled Ray close. He smelled heavenly and Fraser buried his face in Ray’s neck. Ray’s hands came around him to dig into his back and Fraser had to kiss him again, taste him again—he wanted to feel Ray.

His hands explored Ray’s body, trying to memorize every dip and curve of it. Ray groaned. “That—that time with the mango—was that—was that just another of these—these aberrations?” he gasped and Fraser pulled back a little to shake his head.

It was apparently all Ray had waited for to start his own exploration.

“God… Frase…” Ray moaned, closing the gap to kiss him.

A trail of clothes led the way into the bedroom and Ray’s hands never stopped touching him. They wandered over his chest, down his back, gripping his arms—stroking his legs and Ray pushed him back onto the mattress with another kiss.

“Please… please let me touch you… I missed you so much…” Ray murmured, trailing kisses down his body and Fraser understood. This was a different type of touching, not the same as they had done since his careful recovery. This was Ray intent on arousing him, allowed to touch him with intent, without hesitation…

Ray kissed the tip of his erection and Fraser took a hasty breath. Ray’s mouth opened, enveloping him in wet heat and Fraser gripped the sheet tightly between clenched fists.

Slow, so sweet and slow, Ray sucked him. Fraser’s breathing was reduced to a shuddering intake of air. He felt Ray’s tongue exploring the head and a needy whimper made Fraser tremble.

Ray abandoned his cock and Fraser moaned low in his throat.

“I want to do something for you,” Ray whispered. “Turn around.”

Nodding, Fraser turned on his front, stretching out on the bed. Gently, Ray’s strong hands settled on his shoulders, expertly kneading the muscles underneath his skin.

Fraser’s erection was pulsing softly and he bit his lip to keep from rubbing against the sheet.

Ray’s hands slowly worked their way down his spine—and then they stopped, framing the scar from the surgery.

Without meaning to, Fraser held his breath. He felt Ray bending down as the tips of his hair tickled Fraser’s back.

“Benton Fraser,” Ray murmured, barely audible. It sounded like ‘I love you,’ Fraser thought in wonder, when he felt Ray’s lips touch the scar.

He gasped—images assaulted him; the noble knight, kissing the blade to swear allegiance; the crusader, kissing the hilt of the sword prepared to die in battle—“Ray…” Fraser moaned helplessly. Ray’s tongue flicked out, tracing his mark—Fraser groaned into the sheet. When had it become Ray’s mark? It had always been Victoria’s mark—but, somewhere along the way, it had changed.

His whole body had caught fire. Ray’s sure hands moved lower, gripping his ass and spreading the cheeks a little, as his tongue trailed one hot line down from the scar at the dip of his spine.

“Oh… _God_ ,” Fraser moaned when Ray’s tongue circled the small opening.  Ray took his time, his tongue skirted away again only to come back ever more dedicated, opening him up until Fraser was a sobbing mess, trying – and failing – to keep from searching friction for his throbbing erection.

Ray murmured soothingly, adding wet fingers to the sensation, and Fraser was shaking, trying to hang on to this feeling—he had forgotten how erotic a touch could be, how intimate, and scary, and open this felt.

“Please…” he murmured weakly, spreading his legs further.

He heard Ray’s shuddering breath as he slicked himself up and Fraser raised his hips. Ray moaned brokenly. “Ben… God…” He gripped Fraser’s hips, Fraser could feel the scar right in the middle between Ray’s hands, and then Ray pushed, nudging in slowly and steadily.

Fraser felt like falling apart. There was just _so_ much… to feel… to—“Oh my god, Ray…” he moaned. The rhythm Ray had set was slow, gentle—an endless slide of his hips—a pleasure so intense it was like floating, there was nothing else to feel.

“Ben… “ Ray murmured in a low voice and he reached around, trailing teasing fingers over Fraser’s dripping cock.

“Ah—” Fraser gasped, biting his lips. Slow was killing him, gentle was not enough, he wanted to feel Ray’s strength—the desperation he put into things—he needed—

“God, yeah…” Ray groaned and Fraser had no idea if he had been rambling aloud or if Ray had read it in the line of his body, but Ray gripped his hips tighter and then he slammed in, using Fraser’s body to absorb the shock—and Fraser was all too willing. “More—” Fraser croaked.

The pace was furious and Fraser could barely draw enough breath—falling—blind—and it didn’t even matter—he was hurtling towards the edge, closer every time he felt Ray move inside of him, and it was all too much—there was too much—and his body shook with the sudden force of his climax.

He groaned, feeling all the muscles tense in his body with no hand ever touching his erection, and Ray was strangling his name as he came inside of him.

Shaking, Fraser’s arms gave way underneath him and he collapsed. “Stay,” he gasped breathlessly as Ray made a move to pull away. He didn’t want to lose this connection just yet. Ray tightened his grip on him and pressed against his back. He could feel Ray’s cock twitch inside of him and he tensed, wringing another low moan from Ray.

After a while, Ray said quietly, “I’m sorry for… you know, touching it—I just,” Fraser felt him shrug. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s fine,” Fraser said with a shake of his head. He turned around, feeling Ray slip out, but it was a small price to pay to see the look on his face. There was so much tenderness written there.

“I have the feeling this ordeal wasn’t without merit.”

Ray frowned. “Where was the merit in you spending months in a wheelchair?” he asked doubtfully.

This wasn’t as easy to explain out loud as he would’ve liked.

“No, I just…” he took Ray’s hand. “All my scars and old injuries… they are all a part of me, they are the sum of experiences that made me who I am and… they led me to where I am now,” he squeezed Ray’s hand. “I wouldn’t care to be anywhere else… and for that I think it was inevitable to leave the bullet wound behind me.”

“So… did you put it behind you? The whole thing?” Ray asked in a small voice.

“Yes, I—I finally understood some things,” he said with quiet self-assurance. Fraser took Ray’s hand and placed it on his back. Hesitantly, Ray’s fingers found the scar again. A languorous shiver shook Fraser; it was a strangely intimate touch.

Ray watched his expression and quirked an eyebrow. “I think I like it,” he grinned in a husky voice. Before Fraser could protest, Ray’s lips were already covering his again.

* * *

“So the whole thing with the bowling alley is legit?” Ray asked skeptically as he and Fraser walked next to each other on their way to grab some lunch.

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. “As far as I can tell, yes. Essentially, Ray Vecchio told me that things need to cool down a little after the Bookman investigation got jeopardized by our involvement and it’s better if he lays low for a while. Did you talk to Stella?”

“Hm… yeah…. I don’t—I don’t get it,” Ray shrugged. “She got wet over a career instead of children and now she’s giving all of it up to open a bowling alley? How does that make any sense?”

Fraser smiled. “I don’t think it’s about the bowling alley, Ray,” he said gently.

Ray scowled. “I know, I know. She’s doing it for Vecchio—does loving the guy make you stupid?”

Fraser cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t know, Ray. Not more than loving anyone else I would suppose. Think of what you would’ve given up to stay with me if I hadn’t recovered?”

“I never offered to open a bowling alley,” Ray pointed out with a shark’s grin.

“Ah, I see,” he replied as seriously as he could. He was about to add something when a shout reached his ears. “Ray—quick! Someone’s being robbed as we speak—” and he started to run in the direction of the scream.

He could see someone in a gray jacket bumping people in the crowd ahead of them.

Ray groaned and set off after him. “Fraser—wait—dammit! You couldn’t even walk two months ago, how come you’re still faster than I am?” Ray gasped as he sprinted behind him.

Fraser thought talking might have something to do with it and saved his breath until he had closed in on the pickpocket. He tackled him to the ground and a moment later Ray appeared and provided a pair of handcuffs.

Fraser looked up at Ray and was met with a crooked grin that he hadn’t seen for quite a while.

They took the perp back to the station and Welsh met them in the hall with a raised eyebrow.

“Who’s that?” He pointed to the man in handcuffs with a thumb.

“Uh, criminal—pickpocket,” Ray explained.

“Weren’t you on your way to lunch?” Welsh asked with a frown.

“Ah, yes, we were initially,” Fraser answered.

Welsh shook his head with something like amusement on his face. “It’s good to see you’re back, Corporal.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Ray grinned. “Business as usual.”

“Oh, let’s not jump to the worst conclusion, Detective,” Welsh muttered moving along the corridor.

Ray thumped Fraser on the back, laughing.

* * *

Fraser was sitting on the couch reading a book when Ray switched off the TV and put some music on. A mellow song drifted through the speakers, emphasizing the approaching sunset outside.

He shut the book and watched as Ray dimmed the lights. Ray’s hair glowed underneath the string of chili-pepper lights.

With a soft smile, Ray walked up to him and held his hand out.

Fraser looked up at him and studied his relaxed features for a second. He would never be able to express with words how very grateful he was to have Ray at his side.

“Dance with me?” Ray asked quietly.

Fraser took his hand and stood up. He stepped up until they were almost touching and Ray placed his other hand on Fraser’s upper arm.

Fraser looked at Ray’s hand in surprise and moved his other hand to Ray’s shoulder.

“I’m leading?” he asked, a little lost.

Ray grinned at him. “You can try,” he replied softly. “I’m willing to follow,” he added quietly.

Fraser smiled. Ray had already proven that. He began to move.

He felt Ray’s warm, dry hand in his own and he couldn’t look away from Ray’s quiet smile as the melody drifted around them. It might look like he was the one leading, but it was Ray guiding them. Fraser wasn’t sure if he trusted Ray to follow the steps he was going to make because Ray anticipated them or if it was really him who chose the steps he anticipated Ray to make.

Ray’s happiness was radiant as they turned under the soft lighting, feet moving smoothly over the wooden floor, and the music reached its peak, lifting them up and Fraser angled his head to press his lips to Ray’s in a slow kiss.

The song was the same they had danced to countless times before. It was still the same apartment with the same red glow from the same chili-pepper lights. It was different and yet all the same.

They had reached the same spot where they had been before, only they weren’t the same people anymore. They had changed; the journey had changed them. It was the same and yet it wasn’t.

The track changed, morphing into another one, but neither of them noticed as they stood lost in an embrace in the middle of the living room, their lips touching where words failed. Yes, Ray thought, maybe Fraser was right and you simply needed to see some things through before you could be where you wanted to be.  And this here felt like the start of something good.

* * *

  **The End**


End file.
